Falsa Verum
by Mattwho81
Summary: The Alpha Legion are masters of deception and betrayals, using lies and falsehood to wage war. Yet they are horrified to learn that such weapons are a double-edged blade and just as easily can be turned on those who wield them. This story is a spin-off from the Storm Heralds and follows the actions of the Alpha Legion.
1. Chapter 1

**Storm Heralds Reading List**

**Book 1** _Maledicti Venator, Serrati Stellas, Tenebris Resurget, Finis Fide, In Tergum Cultro, Omni Honore, Carpe Posterum, Vacuus Cymba, Noctem Oritur._

**Book 2** _Umbram Ignis, Ancra Mortis, Fame Cimex, Crux Lapis, Saeva Abyssi._

**Book 3** _Captum Ante, Veneum Filios, Locum Ignotus, Domus Discordia_

**Book 4** _Cincere Tempestas, Ignis in Vacui, Indomitus Bellum, Falsa Verum._

**Falsa Verum Chapter 1**

The fleet was burning; a score of ships reduced to flaming wrecks as oxygen spilt out of rents in their hulls. They spun helplessly in orbit, twisted spars protruding from every angle as their superstructures shattered. Trapped in the wrecks thousands of mortal crewmen wailed and prayed unto the Omnissiah as their life-support slowly failed, knowing that nothing could stop death coming for them. Countless saviour pods spilt out from the sundered vessels, but there was nowhere to go, their feeble thrusters lacked the power to reach escape velocity and the harsh grip of gravity dragged them down.

Below them the planet spun uncaringly, a harsh bleak world of dusty deserts and inhospitable salt flats. It was a tiny rock orbiting a harshly radioactive star, whose searing light scoured the deserts with every sunrise. It was a most unworthy place to die for, the planet's only item of note was a small Adeptus Mechanicus research facility, whose mostly-metal inhabitants cared nothing more for radiation than they did comfort. Yet someone thought this place worth fighting for, the facility was ringed by an army, Traitor Space Marines, advancing with full fury. Many different colours were on display and many old icons could be discerned, but each and everyone had one unadulterated symbol on their person, a many-headed snake. The Hydra, emblem of the thrice-accursed Alpha Legion.

They were a mismatched collection of renegades, Traitors and turncoats, yet their fighting skills were in no way diminished and they smote the defending skitarii warriors with startling speed. Their bolters and melee weapons spilt oily lubricants freely as they broke the outer perimeter wide open and stormed the facility itself. At the last gates, under the shadow of the wall guns, the Skitarii turned and reformed, holding their guns tightly as their Noosphere calculated the last stand had come. Yet just as they were about to present arms the wall-guns turned and opened fire on the defenders, mowing them down in scores. Seconds later the agents of the Alpha Legion already within the facility sent the command to open the gates, having seized the control centre and slain everyone who could have opposed them.

As the Traitor Marines poured into the facility they were watched from far above by cold and uncaring eyes. High in orbit lurked a vast starship, one that totally eclipsed the paltry Martian defensive flotilla. Those ships had been brutal pugilists, built for destruction, but this vessel put them to shame. It was a titan of the void, a queen of all she surveyed and she laughed at any lesser pretenders. Rank upon rank of cooling weapon batteries covered her flanks, buried within armour thicker than anything the Imperium of man could produce. Her prow was a twin-bladed fork, that protected a launch bay larger than most starforts could boast, while forward and dorsal lances stood ready to unleash death in an instant. She was a legend brought to life, a dinosaur in an age of rodents, a Glorianna class battleship and her name was, 'The Shadow of the Emperor'.

Upon the Shadow's amphitheatre like bridge her commander stood upon a raised dais and surveyed the scene. He was clad in shimmering green-blue armour, covered in arcane robes that bore eldritch symbols and icons that hurt the eye to look upon. His helm was crested with four twisted horns and he carried a staff crowned with a three-headed serpent. His name was Beta, Sorcerer of Chaos, commander of the Shadow and the Alpha Legion cell it housed.

Beta looked over the amphitheatre like bridge taking in the sunken pits where mutant crewmen laboured to control the multitudes of systems such a mammoth vessel required. He drew in a breath and called, "Report!"

From among the crew another Alpha Legionnaire stood up, one with armour flecked with darker green, growled, "Ground forces have penetrated the facility."

"Excellent," Beta replied, "Tell them to kill everyone then bring the contents of the labs to us."

"They already know that," the other replied sullenly.

Beta fought the urge to snap at him, Delta was a squad Brother to him, the closest bond possible in a Legion riddled with distrust. Such comradeship was the only thing that held the Legion together but sadly their union had been shattered some time ago. Another Brother, Gamma, had died in a tussle with some piffling loyalist Chapter and the squad blamed Beta for the death. Beta chewed his lip under his helm then added, "Tell the ground force, they can claim whatever spoils they like."

Beta knew it was superfluous, the Traitors would take what they wanted anyway, but he had to present himself as a generous lord. Chaos warlords lived and died upon their accomplishments, they had to keep their troops satisfied or the knives would be drawn. Beta knew it well, that was how he had risen to command after all. A lord who was too miserly with spoils or lost too often, would be swiftly eliminated by rebellious troops, so keeping the spoils coming was essential. Unfortunately the last few years had resulted in meagre picking, the galaxy was spilt in twain by an unprecedented warp rift and unsullied hordes of loot were few and far between.

From across the bridge another Chaos Marine, this one with various tools hanging from his belt, announced, "The orbital lanes are clogged with debris, the gunships will have a hard time getting back." That was Epsilon, the squad's tech-expert, another soul who resented Beta's less than sterling achievements. Beta had worked hard to rebuild the trust between the three of them but that was hard when all three of them were well aware that a trusting Chaos Marine was soon a dead Chaos Marine.

Beta looked at his erstwhile cell-mates and said, "The pilots know what they are doing, we will soon have spoils aplenty."

Epsilon turned away with a snort of derision but Beta saw Delta looking distracted. He turned to face the wily warrior and called, "What do you see?"

Delta was staring into a pit of sensor readouts and said muttered, "Errant power spike, it's faint but moving fast."

Beta speculated, "One of the cogboys ships wasn't as dead as we supposed."

"No," Delta countered, "It's coming out of the deep void, this is something new."

"Don't you know already?" Epsilon sneered, "Why don't you summon a Daemon to peer into the future for you?"

Beta shot him a filthy glance; the others knew very well that Daemons were untrustworthy allies, ever ready to turn a bargain to their own advantage. Beta had taught his cell-mates to keep Chaos at arm's length, to use the Warp as they saw fit but never to depend upon it. Mutation and madness were the fate of those who dabbled too deeply, the Alpha Legion accepted only those gifts it could control and no more. Beta had told them that repeatedly, so Epsilon's jibe was nothing more than a goad.

The Sorcerer drew himself upright and declared, "I want active scans of that vector, paint the void red and find me a target."

Mutants scrambled to obey and a long moment passed and then Delta leapt up in alarm and cried, "Gods Below! It's an Astartes Battlebarge and it's on an attack run!"

"Accursed throne lapdogs," Beta snarled, "They can't have responded to a distress call so quickly, they must have been already looking for us."

"How did they get so damned close?" Epsilon spat.

Delta replied, "Their power readings are masked somehow, not as good as Reflex shields, but still brilliantly sneaky. Ident logs have a match: the Veiled Claw, a Revilers warship."

"Corax's gets," Beta snarled, "Damned XIXth Legion by-blows, they won't stop hounding us."

It was true, the successor Chapters of the Raven Guard had shown an annoying persistence in attacking Beta's cell. They seemed determined to track the Shadow down and take or destroy her. The Shadow had been their Primarch's flagship in the Great Crusade and they seemed to take it personally that the Alpha Legion had claimed her.

"Shall we withdraw?" Epsilon called out.

"Negative," Beta snarled, "We can't leave our troops on the surface."

"You're concerned for their well-being?" Delta asked suspiciously.

"Warp no," Beta replied, "We can't afford to lose those spoils. Worry not; the Revilers have just bitten off more than they can chew. Reload the guns and point us right at them."

The mutants scrambled to obey as Delta and Epsilon fell to their tasks. Whatever their differences this was war and they all knew a moment's hesitation could spell doom. Beta looked up into a Hololithic projection suspended over his head and saw the icon of the Battlebarge closing rapidly, with her weapon ports open. She was a powerful champion of void warfare, enough to give most pause, but the Shadow was Glorianna class, nothing could match her.

Ponderously the prow swung about and he saw the Revilers pick up speed as Delta cried, "They know we've seen them. They're trying to close into gun range!"

"Too slow little birds," Beta chuckled, "Give them a taste of the lances."

At his command searing columns of lethal laser energy stabbed out from the prow and spine of the Shadow, crossing the void to slam into the oncoming enemy. Void shields flared as the Battlebarge struggled to avoid damage but the defences were no match for the carnage sent against them. The shields popped in a heartbeat as several blasts gouged into her hull, tearing through her guts with ease.

On the bridge Beta grinned and he heard Epsilon say, "I know we favour grabbing every advantage we can get, but when you command firepower like this…"

"I know," Beta concurred, "The Shadow is an advantage all her own."

"Don't get too cocky," Delta suddenly cried, "They're launching Thunderhawks!"

Beta saw smaller icons spilling into the Hololith and swiftly cried, "Launch Swiftdeaths, task them to deny approach!"

Epsilon commented, "Against Thunderhawks our crew will take heavy losses."

But Beta snapped "They're replaceable but if the loyalist scum boards us we will lose everything. With our forces on the planet even a single company could gut the whole ship. Get the fighters into the void, then place us side on to the Battlebarge and ready a broadside."

The crew hastened to obey and Beta watched the clouds of strike craft engaging in the space between the two ships. Swirling darts of light and fire told a tale of crews dying in the void, becoming brief points of light but he cared nothing for their lives. The Battlebarge was also swinging abeam and the two leviathans were about to exchange broadsides. Beta wanted to fire immediately but he held his tongue until the vectors were just right and then called, "Fire everything!"

Space erupted with fireworks as the two battleships traded shots, macro cannons, turbolasers, plasma blasts and missiles filling the void with death. The bridge rocked under Beta's boots as the fusillade hammered at his ship's shields, yet despite the staggering power set against them the overlapping voids held true. In return the Shadow gave back twice as much punishment, the barrage overwhelming the Reviler's paltry efforts.

The Veiled Claw's already battered shields were no match for the onslaught and collapsed in seconds, letting the barrage strike her hull directly. Armour was incinerated and compartments blew wide open, spilling fuel and bodies into the void. Weapons were obliterated and shield projectors tore off as fires erupted deep within, racing through the bowels of the ship before the crew could seal them off. In one pass the Shadow ripped the Veiled Claw's flank to shreds, managing her entire port side and reducing the weapons in that arc to useless twists of shattered wreckage.

The two ships thrust away from each other, ponderously coming about as Delta called, "Enemy is bleeding power and debris, energy levels dropping sharply, they're crippled. The Veiled claw is not attempting to come about; they are running out their engines in a straight line and recalling their Thunderhawks. They seek to disengage."

"Shall we turn and finish them off?" Epsilon called.

Beta felt the rush of victory fill him and answered smugly, "No, let them scurry away."

"You're letting them live?" Delta spat in shock.

Beta leaned back, enjoying the power at his command and smiled as he said, "Do not forget the lessons of the Legion, there's always another angle to be played. This defeat will gnaw at the loyalist's pride and it will set their confidence back a notch. I'm tired of being hounded everywhere; I want them to back off. So we let them live and take a message back to the Imperial lapdogs."

"What message?" Epsilon asked.

Beta grinned as he declared, "That in the end, the Hydra always wins!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Falsa Verum Chapter 2**

One by one the gunships entered the landing bay, settling down on the hard deck with bursts of precise thrust. Behind them the atmospheric integrity shield of the Shadow's primary hanger shimmered, rippling as many crafts passed through it. Hulls hissed as their void cooled surfaces met the warmth of the air and condensation dripped off to pool beneath them.

Beta watched all this from the end of the cavern like space, observing as his minions disembarked. He had left Delta and Epsilon to watch the bridge as the Shadow departed orbit, the only two he felt secure enough about to leave alone with his precious flagship. Those two may resent him but he was confident they weren't about to steal his most powerful asset, unlike the rest of his troops.

As he watched squads of Chaos Marines marched off the gunships, dragging crates of loot behind them. They were a ragged bunch, from a variety of Legions and warbands, but all of them answered to him, at least in theory. Beta knew any single one of them would plunge a knife into his back if they thought for a second there was an advantage to be gained. That was how he had acquired the Shadow after all.

Among the warband he spied the hunchbacked forms of the Raptor Cult, their jump packs and clawed feet making them walk on all fours. They were led by a Champion called Zhumo, originally a Night Lord, he was a fickle and vain creature that Beta found amusing. Across from him was a hulking Obliterator called Anurax, he was genically an Alpha Legionnaire, which made him completely untrustworthy in Beta's opinion. Anurax was once a brilliant and cunning warlord but since being infected by the Obliterator virus had lost all subtly. At least that was what he wanted Beta to think, for he was a secret mole for their mutual lord, the Harrowmaster.

The last of Beta's Champions was Talgor, a turncoat from the Ultramarines. He was brave and always led from the front, traits Beta held in scorn. He had seen Talgor inflict more than his fair share of atrocities and knew the turncoat was no nobler than any other Chaos Marine. Whatever act Talgor was presenting didn't fool Beta; he knew a long-con in action when he saw one.

The trio strode up to Beta as the Sorcerer once more contemplated eliminating them altogether. Yet he was reluctant to do so, at least with these three he knew where the knives were coming from. Remove them and he'd have a hundred ambitious underlings vying for his head. Better to keep them where he could see them and play them off against each other.

Beta greeted his subordinates, "The raid went well?"

"As well as can be expected," Zhumo replied casually.

"No thanks to you," Talgor spat, "We took all the risks and you stayed safe up here."

Beta eyed him squarely and said, "Good job I did, or a surprise attack from the Revilers would have torn our ship out from under us."

"Revilers?" Anurax started in shock, "What did they want?"

Beta sighed, "Same as always, the Shadow. Corax's gets are annoyingly persistent."

Anurax glared as he hissed, "Tell me you killed them this time."

Beta replied candidly, "I sent them scurrying away to lick their wounds."

"Gods below Beta," Talgor cursed, "You have a disturbing habit of leaving your enemies alive, what happens when they come back with reinforcements?"

"Are you questioning me?" Beta hissed.

Talgor stared back levelly, "Never turn your back on a foe whom yet breathes."

"Quoting Guilliman's precious Codex?" Beta taunted.

Talgor bristled and spat, "It's plain common sense."

Beta however grinned as he uttered, "Let us hope you don't run into him, I remember how you cursed when you heard he had returned. If he sees what one of his blessed sons has become, he would rip your head off in outrage."

"Frak Guilliman," Talgor retorted angrily.

At that point Zhumo interjected, "You're boring, why go for the kill when you can go for the pain?"

Talgor snapped back, "That attitude will get you killed, if you want to survive then slay your foe quickly and surely."

"That's your way," Zhumo retorted, "My way is to go for the eyes, then the feet, then the hands then the tongue."

Beta was enjoying watching their sniping but then heard a snuffling noise from behind him and turned to see a lowly mutant cowering before him. It was a hunchbacked creature, clad in a burly robe and it held up scabbed hands as it cried, "Mighty Lord, I bring news."

Beta loomed over the wretched creature, his genhanced bulk casting it into shadow as he growled, "Out with it worm."

The mutant shrank back before his ire and blurted, "The mistress brings word, the Harrowmaster seeks communion."

Beta realised he was talking about the ship's seer, a corrupted Astropath who now served for the benefit of the Alpha Legion. She acted more as a listening post, eavesdropping on Imperial communications, but there were a few who could reach her directly and the Harrowmaster was one such being. Beta dismissed the wretch with a wave and turned to say, "I have to take this."

"Go," Anurax spat, "We can manage without you."

"Yes," Talgor hissed, "Run along."

Beta's lip curled but he could not do anything about their attitude so imperiously strode out of the bay, leaving the Chaos Marines behind. He marched briskly towards a transit capsule and entered the silver cab, which swept him away into the heart of the Shadow. The small capsule was empty and the dark tunnel it flew down gave no distractions, leaving Beta to fume. The situation on board was not improving and he was growing increasingly aware that his minion's discontent would only grow. Sooner or later one of them would think to supplant him and he was not sure how that encounter would turn out.

For years now he had been trying to play them off against each other but always they returned to their resentful ways. He had been placating them with minor wins and meagre spoils, seeking a shining triumph to cement his rule, but the victories were becoming ever scarcer. Beta found his options were diminishing and he came to the forlorn conclusion that he was going to have to eliminate someone… but who? Anurax was powerful but being consumed by his virus; everyone knew his days were numbered so his defeat would not win Beta any support. Talgor was respected in the ranks, his insipid habit of leading from the front earning him esteem, it was sickeningly Ultramarian, but it was working. Zhumo was a cackling and greedy creature, yet he consistently brought back the most spoils, losing him would be a blow.

Beta sighed at the conundrum; such were the trials of leadership, he would just have to make a choice. Silently he flew onwards, the fact that he had not even considered leading from the front himself entirely escaping his notice. Eventually, he reached a sanctum buried deep within the ship and exited his capsule before striding into the interior.

Within he found a cloying and oppressive gloom, where flickering lanterns cast shadows that moved in ways which shouldn't be possible. The walls were draped with banners, bearing icons of Chaos and filthy degenerates cowered in the corners. Beta ignored the unworthy wretches; they were beneath his attention and focussed upon a scrawny woman who stood naked in the centre of the room. Her skin was covered in writhing tattoos and her bare flesh was pierced in many places with rings and rods. Yet Beta had zero interest in these things, any desires he had in such affairs having been excised from his being aeons ago by the hated Emperor's gene-wrights.

Beta faced the sorceress and growled, "Where is he?"

The Sorceress threw up her arms and screeched, "The gods speak and great woes fill the blessed hells of the Ether! Great shall be the lamentations of the weak and the…"

"Cut it out," Beta snapped testily, "I am not here for your theatrics."

The Sorceress blind eyes glared and her face crinkled as she hissed, "I am surrounded by boorish oafs, there's no appreciation for fine art anymore."

"Just make the connection," Beta growled.

The Sorceress snorted derisively but then she drew in a breath before breathing out a cloud of smoke. It was thick and cloying and hung in the air like oil upon water. More and more she exhaled, her breath filling the sanctum with smoke until it was hard to see. The smoke billowed and swirled, not dissipating but growing thicker and more condensed, then a dark shadow moved within it. From the mist stepped the shape of a Chaos Marine, so real he could almost have been there, save for his slightly translucent aspect. His armour was almost black but flecked with green and he had a daemon-mawed bolter at his hip, while his helm had short horns arising from the sides. He could have been any lowly line Legionnaire but Beta knew he was far more than that.

Beta bowed slightly to the apparition and said, "Greetings Harrowmaster."

The ethereal form of the Harrowmaster focussed upon Beta and growled, "At last."

Beta stifled a harsh retort for the Harrowmaster commanded many Splinters of the Legion; he was one of the mysterious Lords who bound them together and was not to be trifled with. Instead Beta asked calmly, "How may I be of service?"

The Harrowmaster replied sternly, "You shall bring the Shadow to the Velatrix system and prepare to receive me."

Beta blinked in surprise and he said, "Is there some undertaking that requires our aid?"

"Hardly," the Harrowmaster growled, "I am coming on board, to take matters into hand."

Beta was shocked by that declaration and spluttered, "But why? Is there some problem?"

The Harrowmaster sneered, "Problem? Yes Beta, you are the problem."

Anurax, Beta snarled to himself, what has that mole been telling their master? He swallowed in trepidation then said, "If this is about the purity of my Splinter…"

The Harrowmaster snorted, "I am not that idiot Indrago Theed, I care nothing for the genic purity of the Legion, so long as your recruits can fight."

"Then what?" Beta probed warily.

The Harrowmaster drew himself up and said, "You have been gifted with one of the most powerful assets in the Legion, a Glorianna class battleship, and what have you done with it? A few paltry raids, a handful of outposts burned: pathetic. I have had enough of your failures and your paltry victories."

Beta's ire stirred and he said, "I was gifted nothing, I took the Shadow from that bloated egotist Vorshaan!"

"The last true success you had," the Harrowmaster rebuked him, "None of your plans have worked since then. Your vaunted bio-weapons failed to destroy a mongrel Chapter and your efforts to improve the gene-seed came to nothing. The Imperials already have a new paradigm of transhuman, Primaris Marines, but your work to match their success has fallen far short."

Beta swallowed his retort and said, "I assure you this Splinter moves the agenda of the Legion forward. Trust me when I say…"

"Trust you?!" the Harrowmaster barked, "As Master Korswan and Habreal Gorsch did? As the Unbroken Chain Splinter or your comrade Gamma did? The list of allies you have betrayed grows ever longer and I do not intend to end up with my brains blown all over your deck, like the late Indrago Theed."

Beta diplomatically avoided pointing out that it had been the Harrowmaster himself who pulled the trigger that day and declared, "We need no supervision, I can deliver you many victories."

But the Harrowmaster shook his head and commanded, "No, I am transferring my flag to your ship. You will meet me and prepare your troops for the change of command. Do not think to defy me in this; you know what I can do to you."

With that the communication was severed and the image of the Harrowmaster vanished into mist as Beta ground his teeth and clenched his staff tightly. The humiliation burned at him for his rule over this Splinter had just been usurped; by the one person he hadn't been anticipating. A part of him thought of taking the Shadow and running, fleeing into the endless wastes of the galaxy, but he could not. The Harrowmaster was one of a few individuals he dare not cross, even Beta was an amateur compared to that ancient schemer. If the Harrowmaster was willing to tell him the plan then he must assume that his lord had already put a score of safeguards into play. Who knows how many agents he had on board already?

As the mist cleared Beta sighed in resignation, he would just try to make the best of this. He would play the dutiful servant and bide his time, as he looked for an opportunity to reclaim his position. Who knows, maybe the Harrowmaster would even deal with his problematic minions for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Falsa Verum Chapter 3**

Drip, drip, the sound came, ringing in the coldness of the cavern. Drip, drip, over and over, filling the space with echoes of water falling. It was coming from far away, the sound of condensation forming into fat droplets and then plummeting a long, long way down into the dark. Where it hit there was a splash of moisture as it encountered a stalagmite, one that had grown taller than a man. This drip had been going on for years, possibly decades and it would continue for as long as the Hull endured.

Zeck sensed the drips even though he was a hundred yards away. The noise of it made his antennas quiver, as clear to him as someone plucking on a harp string. The dark gloom would have been impenetrable to most, but to him it was clear as day. He shook his head to clear out the distraction and his antennas wafted slightly from the motion, sending strange thrills through his mind as the universe blurred. Slowly focus returned to him and the impression of his surroundings solidified. He was lying upon a pipe, it was cold and hard but he was used to such things. Before him the Hull stretched away, a vast canyon that ran off into the distance. The walls were made of metal, covered in pipes and the floor in refuse and mouldering skeletons, while far, far above was a tiny strip of light, barely enough to cast a wan twilight this far down. Zeck hadn't been here before but it looked no different to the rest of the Hull, cold metal, corrosion and decaying corpses, to him it was as familiar as the back of his hand.

Zeck was a scrawny lad, on the cusp of manhood. He looked younger than he was, due to a lifetime of malnutrition and he was clad in overalls so patched and darned there was hardly any of the original material left. His body was lean but corded with muscle and his hands had callouses of one who had grubbed for every morsel. Yet the most peculiar thing about him was a pair of antennas upon his brow, looking like a coronet. He had been born with this twist, as much part of him as his eyes and typically far more useful in the darkness of the Hull.

Zeck carefully scanned the canyon once more, seeking quarry but behind him there was a soft voice as someone said, "Can you see anything?"

Zeck turned his head and saw a lithe young female lying beside him. She was as lean as he, with sallow cheeks, purple hair and most of her own teeth. Her name was Lynia and at first glance she could have been mistaken for a normie, but a look at her face would had revealed she had only one engorged eye in the centre of her face. Most young bucks could have overlooked that to bed her, such marks were hardly uncommon among twists, but she had made it clear their clumsy advances were not welcome and her skill with a knife had discouraged any hotheads.

Zeck shook off the thought and replied, "Patience twist, we're in the right place."

"I don't like this," Lynia whispered, "We're too close to the freeze; you know the blood-maws own this territory."

Zeck grimaced at the name of the rival gang and whispered, "Relax, I'll see any bucks coming long before they catch our scent."

From behind them there was a snort as gruff voice spat, "You'd better, I'm not dying for you."

Zeck glanced back and saw another lad in patched overalls, this one with a third arm that he was using to pick his nose. That was Refus, a whinger who always had something to gripe about. Zeck had been reluctant to bring him along but he wasn't about to head into Blood-maw turf without numbers on his side, so Refus had come.

Zeck slowly explained, "I can sense everything that's nearby, trust me."

Refus settled back but a fourth voice joined in, "She's right though, we're close to the freeze, that means the Keel can't be far."

Zeck gritted his teeth at that, for this was Munny, a twist with too many eyes around his head. Munny was annoying for he firmly believed in the old tales of the Ship, talk about the freeze of the Keel, the sound of the Gunz, the heat of the Enjinn and the lofty heights of the Uppadeck. Zeck had never had time for all that, the Hull simply was, sometimes it rang with thunder, sometimes it swayed and jerked and sometimes strange sensations swept through them and nightmares filled their dreams. None of it mattered, Zeck would never see any of those things, like all the twists in his tribe he was born in the dank gloom of the underside and he would die there. Talk of a Ship that flew among the stars was so divorced from their reality as to be utterly pointless.

Refus however sought to tease him by saying, "You really believe that cack?"

Munny bristled at him and spat, "It's real I say, didn't you hear the thunder earlier? That was the Gunz speaking."

Refus sniggered, "You're feeble-minded, that rattle could have been anything. Who knows what goes on in the Uppadecks."

"Don't push it," Munny snapped, "My da once went to the Uppadecks and he saw one of the Masters."

Refus sneered, "Masters ain't real, they're just another story. We live between the heat and the freeze, eating what we can find, that's real. There's no Masters looking out for the likes of us."

Zeck however growled, "The Masters are real, take my word for it."

Refus blinked at that and said, "Don't tell me you believe this? You think our lives are steered by the Masters, the same way they steer the Ship?"

"I said they is' real," Zeck snapped, "But I never said they care for us, nobody cares for twists but twists."

It was true, the feral tribe of scavengers lived in the forgotten and abandoned places of the Hull. Scrounging, stealing and fighting other tribes to get by among the derelict quarters and in the gaps between pounding machinery whose function they could not guess at. They scavenged the cast-offs that were lost, the broken bits of metal and the corpses that were chucked down from high above. It had been this way for as long as the oldest of them could remember, though one ancient twist with a grey hair claimed their forefathers had once lived in the Uppadecks, before being lost in the depths of the Hull.

Suddenly there was a deep rumble and thick voice muttered, "Don't like it when you fight."

That was Alk, a twist who was obscenely muscled in ways that shouldn't be possible for one on the same diet as the rest of them. Alk was the muscle of the gang, stronger than any twist Zeck knew but his brain seemed to be smaller as compensation. Alk was a simple creature, with a placid soul, but when roused he could tear a man in half. He was immensely valued for his strength and Zeck counted himself lucky to have enticed Alk to the gang.

Lynia's harsh voice softened as she said, "Its fine Alk, were all twists here."

"Don't like it when they fight," Alk muttered, stroking a scrap of rat fur hanging around his neck. The burly buck wanted a pet; unfortunately they didn't tend to last long in his grip. Thankfully he didn't seem to grasp the difference between living and dead so a scrap of rat fur kept him calm.

Lynia returned her gaze outwards, peering along the canyon and asked, "You're sure they're not out there?"

Zeck gestured to his antennas and said, "I'm sure."

From behind Munny ventured, "I hear the blood-maws worship some shouting red god, all blood and skulls and brass axes. One of the Four, he blesses them with magic powers."

"I don't believe it," Zeck said.

Lynia sounded surprised as she asked, "You don't believe in the Four?"

Zeck shrugged, "Doesn't matter what I think, the Blood-maws can shout prayers all they like, no god would bother with them. Blessings are for the Masters, those blow-hards get everything and we get shafted."

"What have you got against the Masters?" Refus inquired.

"None of your business," Zeck snapped, really not wanting to talk about it.

Silence fell for a moment but then Munny piped up, "So if you ain't got time for the Four, where do you think your twist comes from?"

"Dunno," Zeck snapped in irritation, "Don't care."

"I heard it comes from the Changer," Munny mused, "I heard a posh word for it once: mu-tat-ion."

"Will you be quiet," Zeck snapped at him and silence at last fell.

In the quiet Zeck couldn't help but wonder. He had been born this way, they all had, no one in the Hull was a normie. Zeck had never seen one, well not a live one anyway. Twist clans fought and scraped for warm spots and salvage, completely ignored by the normies of the Uppadecks, and nobody expected that to ever change. Zeck didn't know where his antennas came from but they were exceedingly useful. They let him sense things from far away, to know the layout of anyplace without even seeing it and sniff out loot before their rivals could get to it.

Behind him he heard Refus start bragging about some gel he had bedded the night before but it was a lie. That was the other part of Zeck's twist; he knew immediately when someone was lying. The sound of the heartbeat, the flush across the face, the rate of blinking all told a story and Zeck could read truths from lies instantly. He didn't know why he could do this either, but it was useful when dealing with scammers, which was why he kept that ability to himself.

Suddenly his antennas quivered and stood proud of his head. Zeck started as he sensed movement in the canyon, something was falling from high above, something warm. He was on his feet in an instant, with a crude spear in his hands and cried, "Come on, hurry!"

Everybody scrambled as Lynia hissed, "Move, before the blood-maws see it."

The thing was barely a speck but it was falling fast, rolling down the steep sides of the metal canyon. Zeck gripped his spear tightly as he hastened towards it, desperate to reach their prize before any rival gang could find them. He climbed over piles of rotten much and leapt over a hollowed out box of something he couldn't identify as he hurried to towards the spot where it hit.

What he found was surprising, slumped in a broken heap was a normie, a man in a heavy black robe. He was on his back in a pile of mulch but he had clearly broken most of his bones in the fall. Zeck's eyes instantly went to an object in his hand, blunt-nosed laspistol and his eyes lit up at the sight, a weapon was precious indeed in the Hull. Before the others caught up he snatched the pistol and pocketed it, but as he did so the man groaned.

Zeck leapt back in surprise as the head rolled over and weak voice moaned, "Help me…"

The others caught up with him and Refus spluttered, "He's… he's alive?!"

"Never seen a live normie," Lynia mused as she kicked a broken leg, provoking a gasp of pain.

"What do we do with him?" Munny asked in confusion.

Zeck snorted at that and took up his spear in both hands. The normie tried to raise an arm and he pleaded, "No… wait. Wait." But Zeck drove his spear into the chest and thick blood ran from the wound as the man gargled and stopped breathing. Zeck kept pressing hard for a few seconds then withdrew his weapon and said, "Hurry, pick it up, we need to get out of here before the blood-maws come."

Alk bent to pick up the body saying, "Tribe be happy."

Zeck watched Alk sling the corpse like a rag doll and his eyes poured over the warm meat and crunchy bones as he replied, "That they will, the tribe will welcome us home like kings. Tonight we eat meat!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Falsa Verum Chapter 4**

In the vast darkness of space a tiny mote of life drifted aimlessly. It was the smallest speck of heat in the cold void, nothing more than a pixel of colour set against the eternal darkness. It was a gunship, but one of truly ancient design, a Warhawk Mark IV Stormbird, a design not produced in ten millennia. The gunship was sitting all alone in a Lagrange point between two planets, far beyond its operational radius and any hope of encountering a random rescue craft.

The Stormbird had been deposited here weeks ago by an unremarkable tramp freighter, whose Captain was blissfully unaware of the slow-acting poison that had been introduced into his ship's life support, so that the crew would not live to tell their tale. So the Stormbird was left to drift, aimless and without hope of rescue. Even on minimal power its power reserves were perilously low and it seemed the occupants would soon share the fate of those they had betrayed. Yet all was not as it seemed, for without warning space began to shimmer. A rippling distortion passed across the stars, like the wind over a pond and then it ripped apart as something truly gargantuan emerged out of nowhere. It was a vast starship of stupendous majesty and awe-inspiring bulk, with a twin-bladed prow that cut space apart as it emerged. With her Reflex shields flaring into nothingness the Shadow unveiled herself, exposing her hide to the harsh glares of any watching auspex.

The Gunship leapt into life, spinning about with short bursts of her thrusters until she pointed right at the Shadow's prow. Then her engines flared to life and she shot forward, cruising into the welcome embrace of the titanic starship. The great hanger door nestled between the forks of the prow ground apart, revealing a shimmering atmospheric integrity shield, open and inviting for the gunship to enter.

Stood within the hanger bay some three hundred Chaos Marines waited. They were wearing their mismatched armour and eyeing each other warily, ever watchful for rivals to make their move. They were formed into ragged groups of various types and squads, not for them the rigid discipline of the Imperial lapdogs. They lived by the credo of going where they liked and killing whomever they desired, answerable only to the might of a stronger lord, which was the root of their current problem.

Standing in the midst of all that a pair of nondescript Chaos Marines waited. They were not remarkable among this collection of renegades, save for the fact that they were closest to their leader. Delta kept his hands near his knives at all times, and his eyes sharp as he initiated a closed link over the vox and said, "This lot are going to be a problem."

Beside him his cell-Brother Epsilon muttered, "When aren't they?"

Delta shook his head slightly as he said, "I mean they are going to really cause trouble when the Harrowmaster gets here."

Epsilon eyed the throng of Traitors and renegades and replied, "I see what you mean."

Delta saw Anurax among his Obliterator cult and remarked, "A warband is held together by its leader, he has to be strong and feared in equal measure. But the Harrowmaster is an unknown quality; they won't take the change in leadership lightly."

Epsilon glanced at him and said, "Why do we care? Beta's hardly led us to glory, the Harrowmaster might do better."

Delta frowned under his helm and said, "He's still our cell-Brother, he selected us and trained us."

Yet Epsilon spat angrily, "His bungled operation infected Gamma with the very bio-weapon we were testing!"

"Don't tell me you cared for Gamma," Delta snarled back.

"Of course I didn't," Epsilon snapped back, "He was an insufferable brute but that doesn't mean I didn't respect him. And may I remind you what killed him could well have killed us."

It was uncomfortably true, Gamma had died from a specifically tailored bio-weapon, one that targeted a single strain of gene-seed. Beta was genically an Alpha Legionnaire but Gamma, Delta and Epsilon weren't, they had been whelped from stolen gene-seed and trained in secret, far from the eyes of their late and unlamented Lord Vorshaan. It was as close a bond as was possible in the Legion, beyond the paltry bonds of family and friendship. Yet Beta had broken that union, his careless slip has cost them a Brother and it was only sheer luck Delta and Epsilon hadn't shared that fate.

He looked across the bay to where Beta was standing proudly, head held high as if he was untroubled, yet Delta knew he must be seething. Beta had been paranoid for years that one of his Champions was going to try to steal his position but now an outsider was simply taking it from him, his command was being usurped right before his eyes and that must be tearing him apart. Beta had told them many times that the Legion was all and they were all Legion, but Delta honestly couldn't have said right then if he would have lifted a finger to aid Beta, should he need help.

Any further speculation was cut off as the Stormbird made its way into the bay, settling down with crisp bursts of thrust. Behind it the armoured door of the hanger began to slide shut but not before space rippled with the distinctive effect of the Reflex Shields reengaging. The throng drew themselves up straighter as the Stormbird's hatch opened and a trio of figures made their entrance. Upon the flanks strode Alpha Legionnaires in Tartarus pattern Terminator armour, bearing power axes and Volkite Serpentias and between them came the Harrowmaster, in all his glory.

The Alpha Legion favoured misdirection and anonymity but when it suited them they could match any other force for magnificence. The Harrowmaster now wore plate that was covered head to toe in iridescent scales that shimmered as he moved. From his backpack hung a heavy cloak and his helm was crested by a serpent's head, with its jaws open to reveal its fangs. In his hands he bore a long spear, with blades at each end, that shimmered with deadly power.

Delta saw that the Harrowmaster had wanted to make an impression and it seemed to have worked. The Chaos Marines recognised the superior power in their midst and fell to one knee, bowing their heads to one of the Masters of the Legion. There was no sense of humility or obeisance to this act, it was simple sense. They all knew what the Harrowmaster was capable of and showing him deference was an act of self-preservation.

After a moment Beta lifted his head and said, "Mighty Lord…"

The Harrowmaster cut him off with a curt wave and declared, "Greetings comrades, it is good to see you. At last we are reunited, now the true work can begin."

Delta saw Beta bristle at the subtle criticism, even under the horned helm his tension was obvious but the Harrowmaster was not done. The Lord addressed the crowd, "Through the fire and the Warp we have come together, though many of us hail from disparate origins we are all now of the Legion. Each of us has pledged to give our all to the cause and in return we expect the Legion to give us our due. Yet it saddens me to say that one here is not committed to our cause, one soul has deceived us, one soul is not true."

Everybody tensed at the implication and Beta's hand moved in arcane ways as if preparing to draw upon his Sorcerous power but then the Harrowmaster's hand shot forth and pointed at one random Chaos Marine as he cried, "You!"

The one identified seemed as shocked as anyone else as his head came up and he spluttered, "Me?!"

The Harrowmaster snarled, "Bring him to me."

The lone warrior, Farga Delta vaguely recalled his name being, was suddenly surrounded by unfriendly bodies as his former comrades grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. The Harrowmaster strode closer and declared, "This one has been passing information to Abaddon's spies, he works for the Black Legion!"

In shock Farga spluttered, "No, it's not true!"

Yet the Harrowmaster growled, "Admit it, you work for the Despoiler."

Delta saw the moment that Farga realised he was doomed, no matter what he said, and in that instant he reacted as any Astartes would, by going for his knife. Yet even as his hand brushed the hilt the Harrowmaster was in motion, swinging his spear about with an elaborate flourish. The energised point met the Ceramite breastplate and parted it with ease, effortlessly tearing through armour and the reinforced bone beneath. It was a perfectly judged stroke, just deep enough to slice through the warrior's chest and bisect both hearts, leaving a jagged furrow through the warrior's chest.

Farga collapsed before his knife even left its sheath and the Harrowmaster slipped the spear back into a parade rest as he declared, "Let that be a warning, I will not suffer betrayal in my splinter. Now Beta, attend me, we need to discuss what other purges may be necessary."

Beta lowered his head and followed the Harrowmaster from the bay, yet the rest of the Renegades fell upon Farga's corpse, tearing free armour parts and fighting over trophies.

Delta stepped away from the traditional scrap for spoils and found Epsilon hanging back also. He eyed his Brother and said, "Do you think Farga did it?"

"Did what?" Epsilon murmured distractedly.

"Pass secrets to Abaddon?" Delta explained.

"Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn't," Epsilon demurred, "Hardly matters, that wasn't the point."

Delta was glad his Brother concurred with his conclusion and thought out loud, "The Harrowmaster wanted to assert his authority from the start. So he picked some random grunt to execute, thus letting everyone know what he was capable of."

Epsilon agreed, "Worked though, Beta looks a fool now and nobody will challenge the Harrowmaster's authority."

"So, I guess we work for him now," Delta sighed.

"Might not be too bad," Epsilon muttered, "We might actually win some worthwhile victories."

"I suppose," Delta sighed, "Still feels off though, just relegating Beta to obscurity."

"What did you expect?"Epsilon snorted, "A clash of warlords, a duel to the death? We're not the World Eaters, the Alpha Legion embraces subtly."

Delta was about to utter a retort but then he spied the bulky form of Anurax closing, the Obliterator looming head and shoulders over the crowd. His tread was heavy and his gait swayed as his bulky form was forced to compensate for the numerous gun barrels protruding from his limbs. His skin was exposed in places, where he had swollen out of his plate but what could be seen was woven with cables and munition feeds. Anurax lumbered over to them and leered down at them but his voice was surprisingly soft as he said, "We need to talk."

Delta glanced at the sparring crowd of Chaos Marines but none seem interested in them so he looked up and replied, "About what?"

Anurax's face twitched, though if it were a reaction or an involuntary spasm was impossible to say. The Obliterator got his muscles under control and said, "Have you considered what happens next?"

Delta wasn't about to be drawn into revealing his thoughts in public and muttered, "You wanted to talk, so talk."

Anurax exhaled loudly in irritation then declared, "Things are changing around here, and your future is uncertain. The Harrowmaster has great plans for this splinter and he wants to know where your loyalties lie."

Epsilon sounded suspicious as he probed, "The Harrowmaster put you up to this."

Anurax nodded, "Beta's day is done, he is the past. He will be reduced to another servile minion, fated to be forgotten by history. Yet you don't have to be dragged down with him, you can rise high in the Harrowmaster's service, if you make the right choice."

Delta glanced at the nearby Chaos Marines but Anurax laughed, "Don't worry about them, not one soul here would side with Beta over the Harrowmaster."

Epsilon growled, "You want us to abandon Beta and work with you?!"

Anurax snorted, "Don't play coy; of course you will forsake him. The real question is, will you choose to serve the Harrowmaster devotedly or seek to play some elaborate game of your own?"

"Good point," Delta snorted, "You've got us there."

Epsilon paused for a second then said, "You're not listening to him, are you?"

Delta held up a palm to still his Brother words, then looked squarely at Anurax and inquired, "What exactly is the Harrowmaster proposing?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Falsa Verum Chapter 5**

There were people outside; Zeck could sense them from his pallet. He tried to ignore them by rolling over and pulled up the scraps of rags he used for bedding but it was no good. His antenna gave him a clear understanding of his immediate surroundings, even those outside the shack he called home. Zeck tried to brush off the intrusion into his slumber but the presence grew more abrasive, forcing him back into consciousness.

Zeck groaned as he cast off his rags and rolled over onto all fours then he pushed himself back onto his haunches and rubbed his eyes, clearing them of sleep dust. Zeck yawned widely as he awoke and he took in the small space he laughably called his room. Zeck slept in a space four paces long by four paces wide and barely high enough to stand up in. It was formed of corrugated metal and had two shelves where he kept various items from his receding childhood, insect carapaces, oddly shaped scrap and the kind of knickknacks only a pre-adolescent would find interesting. Three walls were made of metal but the fourth was a long sheet of plastek, hung from a rail. His own room, by twist standards that was lavish.

Zeck spent a moment stretching his arms then stood up and pulled back the sheet. Beyond was another space, it was larger but still square and made of corrugated metal. Here were more varied items, clothes, tools, a cooking pit and a pile of boxes that stored dried out foodstuffs. Light came through a series of holes in the roof, providing just enough illumination to see by, not that there was much to see.

On one wall hung a circular pattern of threads, a design of interlocking circles and lines, curiously abstract in this functional hovel. Zeck paused and reached out to touch the weaving, as he always did. It had been made by his mam, in a happier time when life had looked less bleak. Unfortunately it was all that was left of her, since she had been cruelly taken from them. The thought of that made Zeck turn and he saw the other occupant of his home, his old dad laid out face-down in a puddle of drool. The old twist had drooping tendrils extending from his chin and he was laid flat upon the stained mat that passed for his sleeping pallet.

Zeck's dad had been aged by a life of hard graft and little reward, made old before his time, even by the short measure of twist lives. Yet Zeck could remember a time when he had been vibrant and energetic. Tragically those times were long gone; the loss of his mam had hit the old man hard and he had sought the oblivion of rotgut, trading whatever tat he could find for more acidic booze.

Zeck had quickly lost all respect for the old man; the twist wanted to die but was too cowardly to take the quick way out, instead he was trying to end himself in drink. Only a faint wisp of familial bond kept Zeck from kicking the old man out, instead doing his best to ignore him and wait for the end to come.

Zeck suddenly felt the call of nature and he left the shack by the loosely bound door, a bit of metal hanging from twines woven of hair. He ducked behind the one-story hovel and relieved himself, sighing as his bladder emptied. Times had been good for the tribe, the normie they had brought back from the edge of the Freeze had filled their bellies and a mood of celebration had seen the rotgut flow freely. Unfortunately finds like that were few and far between, so what little remained of the body had been carefully dried out and stored as jerky.

Zeck finished his task and stepped back out into the light. Before him lay the tribe's home, a collection of rough shacks and rude dwellings made from scrap metal. They were laid out in any old fashion, uncaring for order or efficiency. Zeck didn't have the knowing of the numbers but there were as many shacks as he had fingers upon his hands and each housed a family. The tribe had little use for grand names so they simply called it 'The Place'.

Measurements of time were vague things in the eternal gloom of the Hull but they had stumbled upon this spot before Zeck could shave and managed to hold it against all comers. It was surrounded on three sides by rising metal walls that were covered in pipes, some roasting hot, others icy cool. They served to warm the area and the dew that ran down them was cleaner than most water to be found in the Hull. High above, so high that Zeck had to crane his neck, was a looming pattern of ribbed structures, hanging from the ceiling like a beehive. Nobody knew what it was but it glowed with a harsh blue light and hummed endlessly, save for those times when the Hull rumbled and the light would snap off, before slowly returning. Warmth, light and water, the Place had it all and the tribe was lucky to have claimed this spot for their own.

Zeck turned his attention to the immediate area and he spied what had disturbed him, it was his gang, gathered together around one of the butts used to collect condensation. They seemed relaxed and at ease, though they all still wore knives and spears upon their person, no twist would ever be without a weapon for no one could tell when some rival tribe would decide to take the Place for their own. Zeck walked over to them but as he did so he checked his pocket, where the laspistol still rested. Few in the tribe could boast such a weapon and he was determined to keep this to himself, at least until he figured out how to work it.

As he closed he heard Munny asking, "Do you think he'll have any good booze?"

Refus shrugged as he answered, "Dunno, he brings what he brings."

Zeck reached them and called out, "What's this?"

Lynia turned to regard him with her one eye and explained, "Vax's come to trade, he's meeting with Nem."

Zeck was surprised to hear that, it had been a long time since they had seen Vax and he exclaimed, "What are we waiting around for? Come on!"

Eagerly the gang set off, moving through the Place and Alk rumbled, "Wanna pet."

Refus snorted, "You don't need any more of those."

"Wanna pet," Alk repeated in a frustrated tone.

Yet Lynia softly placed a hand on his arm and said, "You've got one already, remember."

"Oh… yeah," Alk uttered as his hand went to the scrap of fur hanging around his neck.

Refus sneered at that, "Thought you didn't like babysitting the idiot."

But Lynia whirled to face him and spat, "Don't you call him that, he's twice as much use as you are!"

Refus grimaced as if spoiling for a fight but Lynia glared at him and the twist thought better of it, everybody knew that Lynia was deadly with her hands and feet and double that with a knife. Sullen silence fell but only for a moment as they rounded a shack and saw a gaggle of twists at the centre of the Place.

They were all jostling around a hand-drawn cart, which had been set down in a clearing. Twists were examining the contents eagerly, with avarice in their eyes. Yet standing off to one side were a pair of men, older than any other in the Place. One of them had writhing tentacles for hands and grey speckling his hair, that was Nem, the elder of the tribe, storykeeper and chieftain. He was the one who made the decisions around here and he knew things about the Hull no one else fathomed.

The other was almost a normie, save for the metallic sheen of his skin. He was taller than anyone present and his hair was completely white, the only person Zeck knew who had lived long enough to achieve such a feat. His name was Vax and he was a trader, one of the few who could pass from the Hull to the lofty heights of the Uppadeck.

Commerce in the Hull was a rough affair, twist clans preferred to take or steal whatever they could, but even they could not acquire everything they needed. So a small number of twists passed from tribe to tribe, trading and bartering for wares. They even went up to see the normies, which was why they were generally less aberrant than most twists. They would trade in anything going, reclaimed metals, intact clothes, working tools, a battery capable of holding a charge, a functional lumen orb, whatever they could get really. It was a dangerous life but the tribes valued the traders for their wares and their gossip too, for they were the only reliable source of information in the Hull.

As they closed Zeck heard Vax saying, "Quite the hubbub in the Uppadecks, some bigwig came on-board to stir things up among the Masters."

Nem replied casually, "Don't see how that's our business."

Vax chewed his lip for a moment then explained, "Means you should be careful, the Masters is riled and you know how it gets down here when the lords are upset." Vax claimed repeatedly to have laid eyes upon the Masters. Some doubted it was true, yet Zeck believed it, he had good reason to resent those hateful overlords of the Ship.

Vax was still talking saying, "We broke Warp a few days ago and picked up this new Master, now he's running things." Vax liked to use posh words that nobody understood: Warp, star, planet, day and night, nobody knew what those things were but the trader was too useful to offend so they let him ramble on.

Zeck quickly approached and called out, "Vax!"

The trader turned to face them and held out a hand as he said, "Zeck, good to see you boy!"

Zeck grasped the hand and said, "Where's you been?"

Vax replied smoothly, "I've been heading towards the Heat, there good trading to be had among the Enjinn tribes. But I keep saying I could use a strong pair of legs to pull the cart, you should sign up with me."

But Nem hurriedly cut in, "We need him here, he's our best hunter. Zeck here brought us a normie from the Freeze, so fresh he could have got up and walked."

Vax however had already lost interest and said, "Lynia, looking good as ever girl. I've got some nice cloth that'd make you shine."

But Lynia snapped sharply, "I'd rather see if you've brought us some good knifes this time."

"You never change," Vax laughed, "Go on then, take a look in the cart, but no thieving mind. My Hamadrya will bite the fingers off any twist who tries to steal from me."

Chuckles came from that, Vax liked to scare youngsters with tales of a monstrous creature that lived in his cart, a gift from the Four, he claimed. The fact that no one could see it only made it more powerful in the minds of the young, but Zeck reckoned he was bit old now for children's tales. The others set off with an eager tread but Zeck held back and said, "Vax, I need something."

The trader looked surprised and ventured, "Don't tell me you've changed your mind about signing up?"

"No, it's something else," Zeck replied.

"Shame," Vax sighed, "I really could use someone with your senses to watch my back."

Zeck ignored that and pulled the butt of his laspistol out and asked, "You know what this is?"

Vax lifted an eyebrow and breathed, "Where did you get that?"

"Never mind," Zeck replied, "I need a… I need a… a…"

"A recharging unit?" Vax guessed, "Well… maybe I do have one spare."

Zeck was relieved to hear that and asked, "What'll it cost?"

"For you, nothing," Vax replied.

Yet Zeck queried suspiciously, "Nothing's free."

"Well not free," Vax averred, "You'll owe me a favour, so the next time something valuable falls from the Uppadecks you'll remember your old pal Vax, won't you?"

"It's a deal," Zeck agreed.

"Good," Vax declared, "Things are getting tense in the Hull, so keep your friends close and your eyes open."

Zeck didn't know what that meant but he was gladder than ever to have his new weapon. Now he just had to figure out how to shoot, without everybody finding out he had it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Falsa Verum Chapter 6**

Beta waited, what else could he do? In the dark and silent depths of the Shadow he stood quietly and counted the seconds passing. It was galling but it was what he had been reduced to, a lone warrior with no one else to count upon. So he had withdrawn, seeking the quiet places where none would see him.

Beta was standing upon a bridge, located over a vast chasm in the Shadow's superstructure. It was a thermal vent, designed to protect the vital systems from accidents, in essence a firebreak in case of overloads in the plasma weapon systems or premature munition detonations. Though a distinctive odour informed Beta that the crew had taken to using it as a dumping ground. Beta however didn't care, the affairs of the mortal crew were beneath him, all that mattered was that it was quiet and unobserved, perfect for his needs.

In the dark Beta contemplated how far he had sunk. Since the Harrowmaster came on board things had gone from bad to worse. He had expected to take on a secondary role, he hated it but he could have lived with it, yet it had turned out he had been completely sidelined. The Harrowmaster had laid out a strategy of attacks upon Imperial strongpoints, they were aggressive and brutal, lacking the customary subtly and misdirection the Alpha Legion favoured. Beta suspected at first that this was a cover for a larger strategy but if it was he couldn't see it.

The Harrowmaster planned to use the Shadow as a battering ram, breaking open any defence and letting his troops rampage freely. The idea of that troubled Beta, the Shadow was a most potent weapon and was able to obliterate any single foe, but it remained only one vessel, a fleet of enemies could surround and overwhelm her. Beta had always relied upon her stealth capabilities and only picked targets he knew he could defeat, never did he risk his precious flagship in anything approaching a fair fight. He mused for a moment that perhaps he should have tried to replicate the Reflex Shield technology; a fleet of escorts similarly equipped would have been useful. But it was too late to second guess himself, what was done was done.

Beta was too wary of his lord to directly confront the Harrowmaster but he had tried to suggest subtle alterations to the plans, to add infiltrators and covert operatives to ensure success. Yet the Harrowmaster had scorned his ideas, shutting them down with laughs of derision as he revelled in Beta's humiliation. Beta had been shocked by this indignity, it was so far from Alpha Legion subtly that Beta knew it had to be a deliberate insult; he was being punished for his lack of success.

More concerning than that was the reaction of the others, Anurax and Talgor had seemed delighted by the change in leadership, uncaring for Beta's fate. Yet Delta and Epsilon had shocked Beta by ignoring their former comrade, not saying a word about his disgrace. Beta knew they had suffered their differences, but he never thought they would abandon him so blatantly, the one thing that held the Legion together was the bonds between squadmates but now that had been torn from him.

Among the Splinter there was only one who seemed perturbed by Beta's demotion, Zhumo, Champion of the Raptor Cult. He alone seemed to retain a shred of respect for Beta, which was why the Sorcerer had arranged to meet him here, to discuss recent events. Hours had passed already but Beta was willing to wait, Zhumo was probably having trouble slipping away unseen.

After an eternity Beta heard a shuffling noise behind him and he glanced aside to see the Raptor approaching. Zhumo was shuffling slowly, his clawed talons making it hard to walk upright. His hunchbacked form swayed from side to side as his jump pack pulled his weight over and his faceplate was formed into a shrieking avian aspect. Beta turned to face him and said, "Zhumo, you're late."

Zhumo pulled up short and snorted, "Count yourself blessed I came at all, I am taking a big risk meeting like this."

Beta bit back a sharp rejoinder and instead said, "I… appreciate that but there is much to discuss."

Zhumo sank back on his haunches and inquired, "Like what?"

Beta carefully ventured, "You have seen the Harrowmaster's plans, what do you think?"

Zhuno sniffed slightly then stated, "Bold and aggressive, a welcome change of pace."

Beta was disappointed to hear that and said, "Overly bold, risky even."

Zhumo cocked his head and said, "Risks are necessary in war, if you want to reap the greatest spoils."

Yet Beta argued, "There are risks and then there are risks. The Horrowmaster is acting recklessly and his plan will provoke a massive response. The lapdogs will send armadas after us and the Shadow is but one ship, we can't beat the whole Imperial Navy single-handed. "

Zhumo snorted, "You always were timid Beta."

"I was cunning," Beta argued, "I kept us alive, what good are spoils to the dead?"

Zhumo paused then and said, "You've got a point there, I do admit I have concerns about this. We want to bleed the Imperium, but we are baiting an Ursul and risk getting caught in its jaws."

Beta was relieved to hear that and ventured, "I see we have a common cause, perhaps together we can talk sense into the Harrowmaster."

"You must be jesting," Zhumo snorted, "You think to turn him from his path?"

"No," Beta qualified, "I seek only to contribute, to make his plans more effective. A touch of subtly could aid our endeavour greatly."

"And put you back into a position of authority," Zhumo countered, "Don't peddle your lies to me, you want your power back."

Beta grimaced as Zhumo pierced his web of deception, it seems the Raptor was already aware of his ulterior motive. Beta turned his face away and stared into the abyss as he confessed, "It is true, I chafe at being cast down."

Zhumo came up to him and muttered, "Truth, from you. Gods below, has the Warp frozen over?"

Beta sighed, "I am capable of telling the truth, except it's usually more useful to lie. Unfortunately the Harrowmaster will lead us to ruin, his conquests are too unsubtle. I can't challenge him directly; he is too powerful but perhaps together…"

Beta's speech was suddenly cut off as a lance of pain slammed into his side, a searing agony that tore into his flank and ran through him like fire. He gasped in shock as he felt long talons piercing his flesh and his gaze snapped to one side to behold Zhumo's claws buried in his flank. Even with his helm on the Raptor's leer was obvious as he cackled, "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

Beta instantly swung his staff about to smash Zhumo away and he staggered backwards, gasping, "What is this?!"

Zhumo recovered quickly, regaining his balance as he snorted, "What does it look like?"

Beta could feel the pain surging through him, far more than he should be feeling and he was appalled to realise that his blood wasn't clotting. The wound was continuing to seep vital fluids and his genhanced physiology wasn't stemming the flow as it should be. The acidic burn was growing worse, Beta could feel its vile touch clawing through his veins and he snarled, "Warp venom."

Zhumo flexed his poisoned talons and chortled, "Courtesy of the Harrowmaster, death will come slowly and extremely painfully."

Beta was reeling with shock and bewilderment but he was still a Space Marine and reacted the only way he knew how. He shoved aside his dismay and reached for his sorcery, drawing the Warp through his mind and funnelling it into his staff. The three-headed snake crackled with power and then shot forth a blast of lightning, arcing to where Zhumo was standing. Yet the Raptor was no longer there, in the second it took Beta to summon his power Zhumo had leapt straight up and activated his jump pack, soaring away to land upon the high walls looming over the bridge.

Beta sent another blast of lightning his way but the Raptor scuttled over the wall like a spider, moving fast as he disappeared among the tangle of pipes yet his voice taunted, "Too slow!"

Beta tried to follow the Raptor, keeping his staff gripped tightly as he spat, "How long?! How long have you been planning this?!"

Zhumo's voice echoed in the darkness as he cackled, "Years!"

Beta snarled angrily as his eyes scoured the walls, "You tricked me!"

Yet Zhumo called, "When have you ever done anything save lie? The Harrowmaster knew you wouldn't accept your demotion, what Chaos Marine would, so he recruited me to take you out."

"I wasn't planning on betraying him!" Beta spat.

Zhumo's voice rang, "You were working up to it, don't deny it, you would have tried to kill him sooner or later. So the Harrowmaster got there first."

Beta thought he spied the source of the voice and instantly let loose a blast of lightning. The arcing energies struck the wall and resulted in showers of molten metal but no armoured body was revealed. Then Zhumo cried, "Missed me!" as he fell from above.

Beta swirled about in an attempt to avoid the strike but the long claws slashed through his pauldron like it was nothing. The weighty shoulder pad ripped free from his body and was spent spinning into the void as long talons slashed his flesh. Then Zhumo shot by, curving away on trails of fire from his jump pack as he laughed in triumph.

Beta clutched his shoulder as he felt the Warp venom from the talons course through him, searing into his veins and debilitating him. Worse than that was the knowledge of how he had been blindsided, Zhumo was the one soul who had seemed sympathetic, the only one Beta thought he understood, but it had all been a lie. The master manipulator had been played, comprehensively duped by the simplest of tricks. A part of his mind remonstrated that he had made the mistake of underestimating the Harrowmaster; he had thought the Lord would be content with humiliating him, but he had been wrong.

Zhumo was arcing about, coming in for another pass and Beta shoved his misgivings aside, now was no time for doubts. The Raptor was coming in fast, too fast to target, but Beta wasn't about to admit defeat. With a moment to spare Beta changed his tactics, calling forth a spell that made his image shimmer. Zhumo didn't seem to notice as he barrelled in, talons extended for the killing stroke, yet as he fell upon Beta he went right through him, crashing through the illusion to slam into the bridge.

With a single second's grace Beta had dove aside, wrapped in illusionary disguises. Now he let free his wrath, blasting lightning into the Raptor at point blank range. The attack caught Zhumo dead on and seared through his armour, blackening his plates and burning the flesh beneath. The Raptor screamed as his right side was terribly burned and his armour shrieked as the Ceramite shattered. The force of it sent Zhumo spinning away, falling into the abyss trailing flames from his charbroiled flesh.

Beta rushed to the side and looked down, hoping to witness Zhumo's death, but he was frustrated to see the flare of a jump pack and the sight of the Raptor sailing away. Zhumo was injured but not dead and he fled at top speed, arcing away from the Sorcerer as fast as he could fly. Beta gnashed his teeth but there was nothing to be done, Zhumo would live to report his failure to the Harrowmaster.

A sudden pulse of pain made Beta gasp and slap a hand to his side. The wound to his flank was still bleeding and he could feel the Warp venom coursing through his veins, a sharp agony that would not fade. The Sorcerer did not know if his biology would eventually counter the poison, but he was certain he had no time to wait and see. His lord wanted him dead and there were none he could trust, nobody would side with him over the Harrowmaster. He was alone, cut off and without friends; even Delta and Epsilon had turned against him. The conclusion was inescapable, Beta had to run and hide. Find some shelter to recover his strength and plan his revenge. Beta had to disappear where no one would think to look for him.

There was no time to debate matters so the Sorcerer took his staff in both hands and spat a short spell, then he stepped off the bridge. Slowly he descended, made almost weightless by his spell and with that he sank into the dark, fleeing into the bowels of the Shadow itself.


	7. Chapter 7

**Falsa Verum Chapter 7**

The Strategium of the Shadow was a dark and gloomy place, filled with strange shadows and uncomfortable angles while sounds echoed oddly in the wide hall, reverberating in ways that did not conform to conventional physics. The room felt strangely hot and yet there was an intermittent breeze, one that came and went at a whim and never from the same direction. Everything about this place was designed to put the occupants off balance, to keep them uncertain and suspicious at all times. Standing in that space Delta felt the disturbing geometry edging into his consciousness, the feeling tingling at the corners of his mind, yet he was not disconcerted by it. He had been here many times before and knew its tricks, the Alpha Legion were masters of deception, they wove the uncertainties, they did not suffer from them. Alongside him were a score of Aspiring Champions from among the Squads, some were familiar to him, others newly promoted but all were attending upon the Harrowmaster.

The new lord of the Splinter was addressing the crowd, looking as imperious as ever with his shining spear as he laid out his plans of attack. The new strategy was bold and aggressive, a series of hammer blows to Imperial positions that should leave them reeling and unable to respond in force, at least in theory. In his hearts Delta was doubtful that these attacks would go as flawlessly as the Harrowmaster predicted, war was a messy business and the enemy should never be underestimated. The Alpha Legion counted upon utilising many angles of attack, grabbing as many advantages as they could, the idea being that if one failed another would succeed but this plan was far more direct than they were used to.

Delta initiated a closed vox-link with his squadmate Epsilon and said, "Brother, what do you think?"

Epsilon replied smoothly, "It is an audacious plan."

"Reckless is how I would describe it," Delta muttered.

"It does contain a lot of assumptions," Epsilon conceded, "A lot could go wrong, but if it works then this will be the greatest victory the Legion has seen in millennia."

"I'm not convinced," Delta countered, "Beta would never have agreed to this."

"Where is he anyway?" Epsilon asked, "He should be here."

It was true, Beta had attended every strategy session so far and current his absence was conspicuous. Ever since he had lost control of the Splinter he had been resentful, chewing upon his demotion with scorn. He concealed it well but Delta knew him as well as the back of his own hand, he could see the signs. Delta and Epsilon hadn't hesitated to throw their lot in with the Harrowmaster, dedicating their strength to their new Lord. It had been a relief to finally have a bold commander but that had quickly been spoiled by the proposed strategy. Delta wondered if the Harrowmaster was overconfident in the Shadow's ability but he reminded himself that this ancient lord had been fighting for millennia, he probably had other agents in play. Yes, that had to be it, the Harrowmaster had secret operatives that he didn't want to reveal to anyone else.

If the plan worked Delta and Epsilon had been promised high ranking positions in the Legion, perhaps even command of their own Splinters in due course. As the Harrowmaster droned on Delta dared to imagine being promoted over Beta, of seeing his Brother bow and scrape before him. It was an intoxicating idea and the notion smothered any doubts he harboured.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the door as voices were raised. Delta turned to peer behind and he saw the crowd of Champions parting to reveal a startling sight. A pair of Legionnaires were marching into the strategium, their horned helms rising over their heads to lend them a proud aspect. Yet hanging between them was a sorry sight, a limp and bedraggled figure scorched black down one side. His taloned feet were dragging over the metal floor, sparking as they scratched the surface and his helmed head hung low in his neck. Delta was shocked to realise it was Zhumo, the Raptor Champion, and he looked burnt half to death.

The pair of warriors marched right up to the Harrowmaster and threw Zhumo to the deck, leaving him sprawled before his Lord. The Harrowmaster's gaze fixed upon the Raptor and his voice was icy as he hissed, "What is this?"

Zhumo stirred then and looked up, in a pained voice he croaked, "Lord… the battle was fierce, I hurt him, but I too suffered grievous wounds."

The Harrowmaster's grip tightened on his spear as he hissed, "I care nothing for your pain, tell me you slew him."

Delta didn't understand who they were referring to but he was shocked by Zhumo's next words, "Beta… he was wily… he evaded my strike…"

The Harrowmaster's ire frothed over and he shouted, "You mean Beta's still alive?!"

"Not for long," Zhumo stammered, "I cut him deeply, the Warp Venom will work its way into his hearts. Death is certain."

"But not swift," the Harrowmaster growled, "Do not underestimate Beta, he is cunning and steeped in lore, he will not die so easily."

Delta couldn't hold his tongue any longer and barked, "You sent Zhumo to slay Beta?!"

Everybody paused at the outburst and heads turned to look at him but he cared not, he stared at the Harrowmaster, indignation oozing out of every pore. After a moment the Lord replied smoothly, "Of course I did, what else would I have done?"

Delta quivered with outrage as he snapped, "This wasn't the plan!"

Yet the Harrowmaster countered, "Don't pretend to be shocked, you knew this would happen the second you agreed to abandon your former Brother."

Delta seethed, "Beta was no threat to you."

But Anurax suddenly chortled, "Have you not been paying attention? Beta betrays everything and everyone, he would inevitably have turned against us all."

Delta faced him and spat, "You knew about this?"

Anurax sniffed, "No… but I guessed, it was obvious one or the other of them would try something and I would back the Harrowmaster in such struggle."

Delta was about to retort but Epsilon demurred, "Brother, I don't see how its any of our affair, let them fight it out."

Yet Delta snapped, "What of the Legion? What of the bonds that bind us, Beta for all his arrogance was one of us. Does that count for nothing?"

The Harrowmaster stared at him as he scoffed, "What has he been teaching you? We are the Alpha Legion, we take the long view! Beta was a threat and I moved to eliminate him."

Delta refused to back down, glaring at his lord but surprisingly Talgor chose that moment to intervene saying, "You stoop to using assassins in the dark, have you no honour?"

Chuckles suddenly erupted all around and Anurax laughed, "This isn't Ultramar whelp; you seem to think you're still in the accursed XIIIth Legion or perhaps you feel insipid compassion for Beta."

Talgor glared back at him and snapped, "Don't insult me, I don't care if Beta lives or dies but there is a traditional way to deal with these things. If our new lord wanted Beta eliminated then he should have called him out and taken him down face to face, proving his superiority and his right to lead us."

Surprisingly there were a lot of heads nodding at that, the ritual clash of leaders appealing to the bloodthirsty nature of the Chaos Marines. Claiming one's throne over a pile of bleeding corpses was time honoured practice among the Traitor Legions. Yet the Harrowmaster seemed far from impressed and retorted, "Take your fantasies elsewhere, this is the Alpha Legion, here it is the subtle knife that wins the day. Which brings us back to the matter at hand, Beta, that slimy worm got away."

Zhumo rallied from the floor, rising painfully to his knees, as he said, "Let me go after him, I can finish what I started."

Yet the Harrowmaster sneered, "You can't even stand, let alone fight a Sorcerer."

Anurax stepped forward and urged, "Send me, I've wanted to kill that scum for aeons."

"In time," the Harrowmaster demurred, "First we have more pressing concerns to address, like Zhumo's disloyalty."

Delta sensed a sharp tension creep around the room, everybody suddenly put on edge. A cold chill swept down his spine as he saw hands resting upon weapons and he felt an air of anticipation steal over them all. Nobody moved but without doing anything so crass as stepping aside suddenly everybody was making themselves as remote from the Raptor as they could.

Zhumo was left alone before the Harrowmaster, kneeling on the deck as he pleaded, "My lord, I assure you…"

"Don't try to deceive me," the Harrowmaster growled, "You and Beta fought yet both of you lived to tell the tale, I find that doubtful. It is more likely that you and he concocted a scheme to deceive me."

Delta couldn't believe his ears as Zhumo contended, "Have you not seen my wounds? Look at me, do I look like I let him walk away?"

Yet the Harrowmaster snorted, "Yes, very convincing, just the kind of wounds I would inflict to insert an agent into an enemy's court. Admit it; you have been working for Beta all along!"

"No!" Zhumo cried, "I spared no effort to eliminate Beta!"

"Then you are incompetent," the Harrowmaster snapped, "I have no use for failures in my service."

Zhumo looked up at the towering form of the Harrowmaster and beseeched him, "Let me prove it, let me prove that I have not failed. Beta is wounded and fleeing, I can finish him, let me go after him and I will bring you his head on a silver platter."

Yet the Harrowmaster only stood silently, staring down at the kneeling Raptor. Everybody held their tongues as they waited for his reaction and Delta had no idea what was going to happen next. Then at long last the Harrowmaster drew in a breath and uttered, "Do you know what Beta's greatest weakness is?"

Zhumo sounded confused as he replied, "No…"

"He has a worrying tendency to leave his enemies alive," the Harrowmaster declared, "A mistake I do not intend to repeat."

Suddenly his spear blurred, swinging wide in a blazing arc of power. Zhumo didn't even have time to flinch as the power weapon caught his neck in the side and sheared right through it, separating his head from his body. The helmed skull flew free and rolled over the floor, coming to rest against Delta's boot. Zhumo's body stayed upright for a second, oozing blood from the stump of his neck before it keeled over and slammed into the floor, where it twitched and jerked as random nerves fired.

Utter silence reigned as everybody stared in shock and Delta's jaw sagged as he beheld Zhumo's lifeless eyes boring into him. The execution had been so swift and so brutal. He was accustomed to lords who gloated over their victims, who took their time to humiliate and denigrate their foes before slowly ending their lives. Yet the Harrowmaster had stuck cleanly and surely, leaving no possibility of survival.

The Harrowmaster paid no mind to the corpse, already forgetting it was there as he declared, "It seems this Splinter has become accustomed to incompetency, but no more. I am in command now and I will not abide failures."

Anurax was the first to react, bowing his head as much as his bulk allowed and speaking, "Command us lord, your will shall be done."

The Harrowmaster stared at them imperiously and then uttered, "Beta has abandoned his Legion, he is no longer one of us. Send forth the squads, all of them. Scour this ship end to end and locate the deserter. When you find him waste no time on pointless gloating or smug jibes, just kill him. I don't want him injured or broken, I want Beta dead. Now go!"

With that the Chaos Marines turned and stomped out, all of them eager to be away from the site of the execution. As they hastened away Delta turned to Epsilon and asked: "What are we to do?"

Epsilon sounded resigned as he replied, "We do what we're told, find Beta and kill him."

Delta shook his head and said, "Could you do it? Really, kill our own Brother?"

Epsilon replied forlornly, "What choice do we have, this new lord won't hesitate to kill us if we don't. He's worse than Beta or Vorshaan; at least they enjoyed seeing their minions squirm. So much for the idea that we would be given commands of our own."

Delta felt the truth of that and sighed, "It looks like we've traded a bad commander for a worse one."


	8. Chapter 8

**Falsa Verum Chapter 8**

They were back in their hunting ground, lurking in the eternal twilight. It was quiet, not merely the absence of noise but rather the ominous silence that promises imminent violence. It spoke to the most basic instincts, the chill down the back of the neck that mankind felt when it knew a predator was lurking nearby. Something was coming, shrouded in darkness and shadow, something that boded ill.

Zeck could feel it, the sensation that they were on the cusp of an immense change. It made his antenna quiver, the tingle filling him with excitement and dread in equal measure. The others didn't seem to feel it, all lying about idly as they waited for his word. The normie they had claimed had fed the tribe well, but once the meat was gone they were back to a diet of fungus scraped off the walls and skittering insects. So the gang had returned to their previous location, in the hopes of another find. It was a long shot, such prizes were few and far between but the rewards were worth the risk, even Refus hadn't moaned about encroaching upon Blood-Maw territory.

Behind him Refus and Munny were squatting beside a pile of broken boxes, so rotten even twists wouldn't touch them, which was saying something. The pair were picking up pieces of grit and metallic pebbles and tossing their bit of trash into an empty space before them. As the trash crossed an invisible line something strange happened, the trash would suddenly shoot high into the air, flying upwards for metre after metre before floating aside and dropping back down.

"Mine went higher," Munny declared.

"No mine did!" Refus cried.

"Best of three?" Munny asked already hunting for trash.

"You're on," Refus retorted.

Zeck sighed at their antics but from beside him Lynia commented, "It wasn't doing that before."

Zeck shrugged as he replied, "Stuff happens."

"Ever wonder what causes it?" Lynia asked.

But Zeck only muttered, "Who knows why anything happens in the Hull?"

Lynia's wide brow furrowed over her one eye and she mused, "It's never come out this far, do you think the Dead Zone is growing?"

Zeck chewed on it for a moment then said, "Nah, it's just another fluke. Don't get worked up about it."

Lynia however wouldn't let it go and said, "I heard weird things about the Dead Zone, it's well away from the Heat and yet not in the Freeze. They say the up and down don't work right there and the air is hard to breathe, the oldsters say the tribe sent twists inside once looking for scrap… none of them came back."

"We're nowhere near the Dead Zone," Zeck stated, "We got bigger concerns, like the Blood-Maws showing up."

From behind there was a bark of laughter and Zeck heard Refus and Munny calling to Alk, trying to lure the brute into the strange spot. Lynia jumped to her feet and began barking at them to leave him alone, even though Alk protested he wanted to play. Zeck ignored them all, focussing on the darkness with his antenna. But as he did so he thought about the recent events.

Vax had given him a recharging unit for his pistol and Zeck had done his best to practice. He hadn't dared fire it lest others see him but he had practised holding it like he had seen the few others so gifted do, watching his shadow as he thrust his arms about and bunched up his shoulders. He was confident now he looked properly intimidating with the gun, but wasn't so sure he could actually hit anything with it. If only he could sneak off to fire a few shots, but that was insanity. Nobody went anywhere alone in the Hull; a lone twist was a dead twist.

Suddenly Zeck felt a quiver in the atmosphere, a sensation of something moving in the dark. Before he even knew it he was up on his feet, racing into the depths of the valley. The others started in surprise but were not slow in following after him, chasing his wake as he leapt piles of detritus and festering garbage. Lynia caught up with him and gasped, "What's coming?"

Zeck didn't know but he answered, "Something big."

Munny was a step behind and said, "Maybe it's more meat."

Refus's breathing sounded laboured as he wheezed, "A nice fat normie… still warm and juicy."

Zeck heard the desire in his voice but wasn't so sure. Whatever was coming was making his antenna twitch, the mass of it greater than anything he had felt before. It felt hard and dense, perhaps something mechanical, he wondered. Yet it was falling slowly, drifting down at a steady rate rather than plummeting as most things did and there was an eldritch tang to it, a rasp across his antennas that was almost painful. He had never encountered anything like it and its strange flavour unsettled him. Zeck slowed his pace and looked ahead with his actual eyes but what he saw stunned him.

Silhouetted against the sliver of light high above was a bulky shadow of a man, it had arms and legs but any resemblance to the twists ended there. It was broad and tall, taller even than Alk, with limbs thicker than Zeck's chest. Some form of crab-like shell covered every inch of it and yet it was perfectly shaped to fit around the figure with an elegance that surpassed anything found in the Hull. In one hand was a long staff and its head was covered in curving horns. The mass of it was immense, the being carrying a majesty that was amplified by a shimmering distortion that surrounded it.

Gracefully the figure descended until its feet touched the piles of rubbish and then it settled down without making a sound. The shimmer around it disappeared and Zeck's heart fluttered as the colours of it became clear, a green-blue mix with eldritch markings dotted around it. Instantly Zeck was catapulted back to his childhood and the last time he had seen such a sight and he reacted by throwing himself into the nearest pile of garbage, trying to hide.

The others followed his lead, a lifetime in the Hull honing their instincts for danger, but Lynia whispered quietly, "What is it?"

"Shut up," Zeck hissed, "Maybe it didn't see us."

Munny sounded confused as he asked, "What's going on?"

"Be quiet," Zeck urged, "If it didn't see us then it may move on."

But Alk rumbled, "Why hiding?"

Zeck wanted to shove a rag into his mouth to silence him but muttered, "It's one of the Masters."

"A master?!" Lynia gasped, "Down here? No, it can't be?"

"It is," Zeck snapped, "Now be quiet or it will…"

Suddenly a deep and sonorous voice issued forth, "You there! Come forth!"

Zeck squirmed deeper into the rubbish but there was a tang in the air and suddenly the piles of garbage began flying away, flung aside as if grabbed by a pair of huge hands. The Master was twenty metres away but a faint glow surrounded its staff, leaving no doubt as to who was responsible for the impossible feat. Zeck found himself exposed, the master's vision pouring over him like a predator eying up vermin.

One glance at the armoured body told Zeck that his crude spear would be of no use so instead he reached into a pocket and pulled free his laspistol. He held it out sideways, like he had seen other twists do, and yelled, "Stay away, we don't want no trouble!"

The Master stared at him and then said, "What are you planning to do with that toy?"

Zeck swallowed as the massive figure loomed over him, even from far away it dominated the surroundings, and he stammered, "Don't come any nearer!"

The Master sounded almost amused as he queried, "Do you have any idea how to use that?"

"Yes," Zeck spat trying to sound intimidating.

The Master was silent for a long moment then commented, "Are you aware that you have the safety catch on? That little toggle on the side; it won't fire until you push it forward."

Zeck hurriedly thumbed the toggle then he jabbed the gun forward and spat, "I'll do it, I will shoot you!"

"Oh for hate's sake," the Master sighed, "Normally, I'd kill you for pointing a gun at me, but this is absolutely pathetic. If you're going to threaten me at least do it right."

There was the strangest sensation around Zeck's wrist, like an invisible hand gripping his arm and his hand began to rotate, turning against his will until it was holding the gun vertically. Then the Master declared, "That's better, gunsights go on the top. Now tell your little friends to come out or this conversation will end badly for you."

Slowly the others emerged from cover and shuffled forward, Lynia looking surprised as she saw his gun and she asked, "Where'd you get that?"

"Later," Zeck muttered as he shoved the gun into a pocket.

The Master watched them line up and Zeck felt the gaze cover them all. Yet as he was assessed he was watching in turn. The Master felt wrong inside, Zeck's antenna told him so. The bones were too broad, the muscles too dense and the heartbeat had a strange double –thump rhythm. There was something unnatural about him, like a made-machine and it was going wrong. There was a stink in his blood, something vile crawling through the veins, clawing and tearing at his insides. It was taking him apart one cell at a time, unmaking him piece by piece and leaching strength from his bones. Then Zeck's eyes saw claw marks upon his shoulder and a wide wound in his flank, one that was seeping black fluids.

The Master was trying to look imperious as he declared, "I am Lord Beta, I command this vessel and all within. Know that I hold the power of life and death over you all."

Zeck could sense the lies pouring off him, the deception as obvious as light from dark to his antenna. He could feel the layers of dissembling that surrounded this one, ancient lies worn thin from overuse, and realised all was not as it seemed.

Zeck faced him squarely and said, "You don't look so Lordy to me, you look like you're about to keel over."

Lynia scowled and said, "Zeck… what are you doing?"

Yet Zeck ignored her and declared, "I reckon you ain't down here by choice."

This Beta turned his horned helm towards him and said, "What makes you say that?"

Zeck shrugged, "Your lot usually avoid coming down here."

Beta growled, "Maybe I am here to kill you all."

Zeck could smell the sickness in the Master, sinking venomous claws into his essence and he grinned as he said, "Nah, you'd have killed us already, you want something from us."

Beta was silent for a long moment then muttered, "My, my, my, a clever mutant. Just when you think you've seen it all, the universe comes out with the most bizarre surprises."

Lynia started then and spat, "So why are you here?"

Beta breathed in and replied, "Let us say I needed to be somewhere other than among my own kind."

Zeck smelt a half-truth but he eyed the wound in Beta's side and uttered, "There's a lot of hiding places back that way. I suggest you hole up and we'll forget we ever saw you."

Unfortunately Lynia gasped, "Zeck, you going mad? That's Blood-Maw turf!"

Zeck swore to himself, he had hoped to be rid of this Beta and the girl had just blown it. Beta eyed them warily and said, "Are you trying to deceive me?"

"Nah," Zeck hastily covered, "Only a few twists that way, you can handle them."

Beta glared at them then said, "I think not, I believe your own abode is more likely to be secure. You will take me there."

"Look…" Zeck stated.

But Beta growled dangerously, "Lead me to your home, now, or I kill you all then track your scent back and kill everyone I find when I get there."

Zeck's antenna's told him that was pure unvarnished truth and he swallowed nervously. This Master was dangerous and taking him back was a risk, but faced with certain death or probable death there really was no choice. Reluctantly he turned and led the party away, Beta following in the rear and as he did so Zeck wondered how he was going to get rid of this Master, before he brought ruin down upon them all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Falsa Verum Chapter 9**

Something squelched under his boot, a soft and glistening bit of congealed refuse that had laid here for who knows how long. It splashed up his boot and onto his greaves, marring the subtle colours and staining the eldritch symbols. It smelt bad too; a festering odour of something so malignant that even mutants wouldn't eat it. Beta fought the urge to snarl as he followed the mutant gang. He was letting them lead him back to their home, where he planned to regroup and take stock, though he was careful to keep all of them in his line sight at all times. It was a basic habit for the Alpha Legionnaire, so ingrained he didn't even think about it. Actually the mutants presented no real threat to him, he would have killed them on sight if they did. One look had told him that they possessed no weapons capable of penetrating his Ceramite plate, even the paltry laspistol was being held by someone who knew nothing of firearms.

Beta marched slowly in their wake, climbing piles of detritus and ducking under fallen spars of metal. He was surprised at how full this artificial valley was, the munition firebreak had obviously become a favoured place for the crew to dispose of useless items and inconvenient bodies. Beta cared not, even on an Imperial starship the daily death count among the crew was significant and for the Traitor Legions even estimating a number would be impossible. As he walked a part of Beta's mind was seething at the indignity laid upon him, to be walking through a dumpsite, accompanied by mutant scum was beneath a lord of his rank. He was better than they in every way and deserved their awe and fear. Yet another part of him was scoffing at his own pride, he had infiltrated far worse places than this, he had lied his way into festering dens of iniquity and fine palaces alike, no deed was too foul for the Alpha Legion to abhor.

Reluctantly Beta turned his mind to the current situation, the betrayals of Zhumo and their mutual master. Beta couldn't help but chide himself, he should have seen it coming, he should have seen that the Harrowmaster would want him eliminated. Beta would have known that once, there was a time when nothing got past him but Beta had let himself become too concerned with holding on to what he had and so forgotten his ambition to keep climbing. Yet once he would have been ten steps ahead of the Harrowmaster, in fact he wouldn't even have let the gloating cur on board; he wouldn't have hesitated to blow that gunship out of the stars.

Beta was not given to introspection, he had seen and done too much to be spending time fretting over his past but now he couldn't avoid thinking about his life. So many betrayals, so many friends and masters sacrificed on the altar of his ambition. The Unbroken Chain splinter, Habreal Gorsch and Master Korswan, Vorshaan, Indrago Theed… Gamma. That last one hurt, it shouldn't, nothing should touch the Hydra, but Beta felt an unfamiliar stab of pain. Gamma had died for his mistakes, falling to the very bio-weapon Beta had concocted. There was a strange sinking sensation in his chest, a feeling he hadn't felt in millennia. It took a moment to remember the word for it… regret, he regretted Gamma's death.

The realisation made Beta grit his teeth, he was the Hydra, he could waste no time on insipid emotions. He needed to be sharp and alert, he needed to be angry. He forced himself to concentrate on the betrayals wrought against him and in his mind he spied his minions: Zhumo, Talgor, Anurax, Delta and Epsilon. The Harrowmaster's treachery was a foregone conclusion, but theirs was unforgivable, he would explain that to them in due course. Beta's anger built and his lips pulled back over his teeth under his helm, yes, anger would serve his goals very well.

Beta dragged himself back to the moment and took stock. He was alone, set against the entire splinter and massively outnumbered. More concerning was the wound in his side, which was still weeping oily fluid. That was troubling, his gene-forged body should have taken care of it already, the Warp-venom must be potent indeed. Thankfully Beta had already cast precautionary spells over his wound to slow the poison and mitigate the effects but he couldn't remove it alone. There were only a handful of ways to remove such a toxin and all of them came with consequences Beta would rather not face.

Yet he had his armour and his sorcery and certain weapons known only to him. The Shadow was truly vast, larger than many cities and Beta had taken care to stash certain resources in carefully hidden locales, items that could let him win a war single-handed. Meticulous planning and preparation for any eventuality were the hallmarks of his kind, not for nothing did the Alpha Legion claim that the Hydra always won.

A vague plan began to form in Beta's mind, but he would need assistance to carry it out. Beta's eye returned to the mutants and he evaluated their potential. Mutants were part and parcel of the Shadow's crew, inhabiting its bowels since long before it was restored by the Dusk Prince Vorshaan. Beta had never given them any notice; they were mere adornments to his ship, as interesting as a servitor. He mostly saw them chained to the bridge stations or labouring in slave gangs to feed the guns, he'd never asked where they came from but it seemed there were more of them than he knew. Beta frowned at that and he wondered what else he didn't know about his own ship, what secrets it was hiding that had escaped him.

Suddenly the gang of mutants darted into a small gap in the wall, a chink in the metal plating. Beta hastily followed, concerned that they were trying to lose him. Yet it seemed only to be a short-cut, taking them into a smaller subsidiary channel. Beta frowned slightly as he saw defunct magnetic projectors lining the channel and he began to become suspicious as to where they were heading. Sure enough the mutants led him up the channel and he soon emerged into a towering cylinder, that was open on one side.

On the low floor dwelled a tiny village built from scrap, housing some fifty mutants. Beta's eyes rose up and up until they fixed upon the roof, bulging downwards and glowing softly. A tight sensation of dread closed around Beta's throat as he realised that he was looking at a capacitor for one of the Shadow's Plasma Annihilators, a starship-grade macroweapon. This whole chamber was nothing but a vent for overloading plasma coils; to prevent catastrophic damage to the ship should something go awry. If there were a single fault in the weapon this vent would be filled with star-hot plasma, incinerating everything. These mutants were living one malfunction away from annihilation.

Instinct told Beta to depart immediately but he overrode that, these mutants had clearly been living here for some time and it was unlikely that the weapon would blow up soon. Still it was best not to linger. Beta followed the silent mutants into their homestead and saw that he was attracting curious glances. It was disconcerting; they looked curious but not afraid of him, they did not cower before him as mutants usually did. They seemed to be eager to see him, crowding around as he marched forward. It took a moment for Beta to realise that these mutants had probably never seen a Space Marine before, let alone a Sorcerer. They did not understand how far above them he was, they were unaware that he could kill every single one of them without breaking a sweat. Beta scented an opportunity here and decided to play to their ignorance.

Finally the gang found a mutant with greying hair and tentacle hands and the one with the Antenna called out, "Nem! Visitor for you."

The other peered up at Beta and frowned as he asked, "You're no twist, but you're not a normie. What brings you here?"

Beta peered down at the hunched mutant but thought better of using force to get his way and lowered himself to one knee, so they were eye to eye. Beta drew in a breath and said, "You are the leader here? Greetings I am Beta, and I come to you from on high."

The one with the antenna explained, "He floated down from the Uppadecks, we found him in the Blood-Maw's turf. He's one of the Masters."

Gasps greeted that and the mutants twittered among themselves at the declaration. Beta took the opportunity to claim, "Indeed I am, come to reward you for your leal service."

But Zeck snorted, "He's lying."

Beta frowned at that and growled, "Choose your words carefully, lest I grow angry."

Zeck went pale and stammered, "All I mean is, nobody comes down here by choice."

Beta's eyes narrowed, that was a feeble cover for an unintended gaff. He took a millisecond to push his awareness beyond mundane reality, calling upon his witch sight and detected a shimmering aura around the mutant. Ah, Beta thought, a low-level telepathic field, not enough to penetrate a Sorcerer's mind but the mutant was indeed an empath. A lie would be obvious to one such as him, Beta would have to speak truthfully, thankfully he was skilled at using the truth to his own advantage.

Beta changed tactics and lowered his head as if humbled to say, "Alas, my comrades turned upon me, they drove me out and seek to end my life."

Nem gulped at that and said, "I… I don't see how we can help if the Masters are after you."

But Beta responded smoothly, "I am not without means of my own. I have artefacts stashed in hidden places, weapons powerful enough to defeat any foe."

"He's speaking truth," Zeck declared, "We should let him go."

"Unfortunately I require guides," Beta countered, "The route is not known to me. Help me find the means I require to return to my position and I will reward you handsomely."

Nem's eyes lit up and he said, "Now you're talking our language, where do you need to go?"

"The bow," Beta replied confidently.

Unfortunately that drew blank stares and the mutants whispered among themselves, "What's a bow?"

"Never heard of that," Nem stated, "Is it near the Freeze?"

Beta frowned in confusion as he explained, "It's the forward most part of the ship… under the primary launch bay. As far from the engines as you can get."

Nem's eyes light up with recognition and said "Oh, you mean away from the Heat. That's a long way to go and there's a lot of Twist tribes in your way. You'll never make it."

Zeck spoke up then, "He could try cutting through the Dead Zone, nobody goes there."

Beta smelled a trap from the empath, who seemed determined to get rid of him and the Sorcerer said, "Very well, you shall guide me there."

Zeck's face fell at the prospect but Nem cut in to say, "Hold on… we ain't even talked price yet."

Beta's gaze fixed on the mutant and he hissed, "What do you want?"

Nem grinned evilly and said, "Reckon a Master has some good gear, we wants a dozen pistols."

"An' some meat!" a voice called from the crowd.

"And boots with no holes in them!" another voice cried.

Beta went silent as he processed that, then he said in a bemused tone, "Let me get this straight: you have a powerful lord asking for your help, offering you anything you could possibly desire and your demands are a few small-arms, some rations and boots?"

Nem chewed on it then said, "Don't suppose a cooking stove is out of the question?"

Beta was struggling to understand the immense disparity between their worldviews and all he could say was, "Help me reach my destination and I will supply you with everything you have asked for and more."

"It's a deal," Nem declared with a bold grin, "Zeck, get your gang together."

"What?!" Zeck spluttered, "I ain't goin with him."

"Yeah you are," Nem growled, "This is for the tribe, we all need this. You're quick and sharp, get your mates together and move it."

Beta enjoyed the consternation on the mutant's face as he stood up. The Sorcerer now had a guide and a plan and an empath might have uses he hadn't even considered yet. For the first time in a long while Beta felt his old cunning returning to him, this was going to be interesting.


	10. Chapter 10

**Falsa Verum Chapter 10**

His breath came heavily, forcing his chest to heave as he ascended. His arms were burning and his legs quivered as he forced them to move, the lactic acids biting hard. He was climbing a sheer wall of metal, putting his hands into deep grooves in the surface as he clawed his way up. His strength was not inconsiderate, no twist lived long without developing a lean hardness, but stamina was a different matter. A lifetime of malnutrition and scavenging hadn't gifted him with impressive health and this climb was testing his limits.

Below him there was only darkness, swallowing the distant floor while above a mote of light swayed about. It was the Master, Beta, and the light came from his staff which was strapped across his back. Beta was climbing the sheer wall far faster than the twists could, punching handholds into the metal surface with his fists so that they could follow. Beta had made the climb easily but the twists had struggled to match his feat.

Zeck had been far from happy about the situation, going forth with one of the masters was the last thing he wanted to do but he had been out of options. Beta had insisted upon guides out of the area and none could gainsay him. Sullenly Zeck had led him back through the depths of the Hull, along the edge of Blood-Maw territory and beyond. He had never actually been this far out but various gang markings had lined their route, letting them navigate their way around. Zeck wasn't sure what threat any twist tribe could present to a master but Beta seemed eager to avoid entanglements, so he assumed that other Masters were seeking him.

Suddenly Beta disappeared over an edge and took the light with him. Zeck gritted his teeth and forced his numb limbs to move, dragging himself up the wall until he too emerged over the edge. He found a narrow lintel and heaved himself onto it, then he lay there, gasping for breath as his heart hammered in his chest. Above him the valley wall continued to soar upwards but it seemed they would be going no higher. A few moments later the rest of the gang pulled themselves over and sprawled about, wheezing loudly.

Zeck lifted his head and saw Beta striding further along the lintel, seemingly untroubled by the climb. For a moment he thought the Master was going to leave them but Beta paused a little way off, seemingly inspecting a tunnel opening in the wall. Behind him he heard Lynia rummaging in her pack and she pulled out a dim lumen orb, one that cast just enough light to see by. It wasn't strong enough to illuminate the valley floor far below but twists were accustomed to the dark and they could see plenty.

After a moment Munny sat up and wheezed, "That was hard going."

"Never thought I'd go so far from home," Refus concurred, "We must have gone further from the Place than any twist in the tribe."

Zeck shook his head to clear the exertion but he heard Lynia shuffle closer and say, "Zeck, I have to ask, where'd you get the pistol?"

"Doesn't matter," Zeck snorted.

"Course it does," Lynia growled, "You lifted it off that normie, right?"

"Yeah, so what?" Zeck muttered.

Lynia scowled, "You helping yourself now?

Zeck felt a stab of resentment and said, "Finders keepers."

Lynia glared at him and hissed, "That's not how we do things, the tribe shares everything, it's the only way to survive down here. If we don't look out for each other we're done for."

Guilt tinged Zeck's thoughts but before he could speak Beta returned saying, "Get up."

Zeck glared up at him and retorted, "We need a breather."

Beta's expression was unreadable under that fancy helmet but his voice was irate as he spat, "I have no time for your weakness, we need to move."

But Alk rumbled, "Wanna rest."

Lynia concurred, "Give us five minutes, we're no good to you falling over on our faces."

Beta glared at them but then said, "Five minutes, no more. Zeck a word… now."

Zeck grimaced at the curt order but rose to shaky feet and followed Beta to the tunnel entrance. He peered within but saw only vanishing darkness, lined with pipes and odd devices. He saw a gang tag, one he didn't recognise but by the wear it wasn't fresh, this area seemed deserted. Beta leaned closer and said, "What do you know of the route ahead?"

Zeck shrugged, "Not much, the tribe doesn't come out this far but we're headed towards the Dead Zone, no twists go there."

"What is in this Dead Zone?" Beta asked.

"Dunno," Zeck replied truthfully, "But the traders' talk is that things get weird inside, up and down don't make much sense and it's hard to breathe. Cold too, almost as cold as the Freeze."

"Sound's like a compartment suffering from life-support failure," Beta mused, "How could the overseers let things fall apart so badly?"

"What's an ovaser?" Zeck asked in confusion.

"Doesn't matter," Beta muttered, "Clearly I haven't been paying enough attention to the small details. My ship is badly neglected, this is intolerable."

Zeck shrugged, "Don't know about that, there have always been twists in the Hull, since before anyone can remember."

Beta turned his horned helm and stared at him as he said, "But you're not like the rest, are you? You are different."

Zeck glared at him and said, "That's none of your concern."

Beta leaned in and said, "You have an empathic gift, you see the truth of things and of people. I could use such a talent; I can offer you great rewards."

But Zeck snapped, "You can keep them. You stink of lies, so thick and old I be surprised you can breathe. Can you even remember what truth is? When did you last keep your word about anything?"

Beta however sounded amused as he said, "Your skills are meagre but still measurable. It was inevitable I suppose, where there's mutation there are psykers. Psychic ability is a mutation of the mind. Did it come from your father… no… It was your mother wasn't it?"

"Don't you talk about her!" Zeck snapped angrily.

"My, my," Beta chuckled, "Touched a nerve I see, what happened to her?"

Zeck couldn't hold back the truth and spat, "You did. Your lot came down into the Hull one day, looking for slaves and sport. One of you caught her in the open and cut her down. No reason, no purpose to it, other than that she was simply there."

Beta didn't sound concerned as he said, "Probably one of Vorshaan's culls, he did like to let his squads roam free. A taste of murder kept them sharp, he used to say."

Zeck bristled at that and spat, "It was nothing but moment's pleasure to that brute. He laughed about it as he strode away, leaving me behind over a cooling corpse. She wasn't the last though; they still come down every now and again. We hear the screams, most twists refuse to think it's the masters but I know better."

Now Beta did pause and he said, "They… they still do it? I didn't know that."

"Yeah," Zeck muttered, "I'm starting to think there are lots of things you don't know about a lot of things."

Beta sounded irked as he said, "I am not that bloated egotist Vorshaan, I run a tight ship. Rest assured I am better than he ever was."

Zeck snorted, "Keep telling yourself that, maybe you'll believe it. Nothing has changed; life hasn't improved at all for us twists."

Beta was really annoyed now and spat, "Don't compare me to him; you have no idea how vile he was."

But Zeck spat, "You all look the same from down here, lordly and proud, claiming all the rewards and leaving us scraps."

Beta shook his head and said, "Rewards come to those with the strength to take them. That is the way of the universe, the strong prosper and the weak perish."

Zeck snorted, "Sounds like something a strong man would say, but that ain't you anymore. You're down here with us twists, the lowest of the low. You're the weak one now; your old chums cast you out. Now you get to see how life is for the weak."

Beta drew himself up and said, "This is only temporary, I will return to my position of power. Once I do I will sort out these aberrations, I want a tightly run and efficient ship."

"You're crazy," Zeck snorted, "The other Masters will never take you back."

"I wasn't planning on leaving many of them alive to debate it," Beta hissed.

Zeck's retort was cut off as the others came up behind him, rested after their brief break. Zeck glared at Beta once more time then set off into the tunnel, walking past various pieces of equipment whose function he could not guess at. The roof was low and the walls tight, forcing them to walk in single file, but Lynia was right behind him and asked, "What were you talking about?"

"Nothing that matters," Zeck growled as he pressed on.

After a while the tunnel widened and let them emerge into a large space, filled with complicated knotworks of pipes. Some were small, others wider than Zeck was tall but they blocked the route entirely. "A coolant system for turbolasers," Beta explained but Zeck merely waved his comrades to spread out and look for a way through. They bent to their task, sticking their heads into various places and squeezing around pipes, there was space enough to move but Zeck could see no way further forward and was forced to duck and climb several times as he moved deeper into the space.

Zeck looked away as he ducked under a large pipe and rose up on the other side then he took a single step forward, but before his foot even touched the ground he froze. Zeck's antenna's quivered as a sensation he had never experienced before swarmed over him. He felt hot and cold and itchy all at once, a sickening nausea clenched at his guts and his skin crawled. He couldn't articulate the experience but his antennas were crying out that something unnatural was in here with them, a depthless well of horror lurking out of sight. It was large, he knew that much, but there was a tainted scent to it, a hungry darkness that threatened to consume all around it. Zeck instinctively recoiled from it, his soul screaming at him to be anywhere other than in the presence of this revolting horror.

The other twists paused in their places and stared at him as Refus said, "What's wrong?"

A heartbeat later Beta vaulted the pipe and landed on his feet with his staff gripped in both hands as he uttered, "We're not alone."

From the darkness ahead came a deep chuckle and an inhuman voice that growled, "How right you are."

There was a heavy thump and suddenly something emerged into the wan circle of light. It was immense, towering over Beta and far wider and bulkier. Its limbs were wrapped in flesh and ceramite, entwined in such a way as to make it impossible to tell where one ended and another began. Strange sinews ran over its surface, pulsing with beads of black blood, but between them could be spied remnants of cerulean plate, covered in markings nearly identical to Beta's own. It was horrific to look upon, a nightmare made real and even to mutant eyes the unnatural aspect of it caused Zeck to recoil in horror.

"Anurax!" Beta spat in recognition.

The monster face was made of skin stretched over metal tubes and it leered as it uttered, "Beta, good to see you."

Beta gripped his staff tighter and raised it chest high as he said, "I know you're here to kill me but you should listen, I can offer…"

Yet the one called Anurax interrupted him, "Save it, this is your end!"

Suddenly the sinews covering its hands began to writhe, parting as a score of short barrels protruded through them. They formed two circular clusters of barrels, sticking out from its hands like long talons. Zeck gasped at the impossible occurrence but before he could react the monster lifted its arms and a thunderous booming noise heralded the onslaught of twin assault cannons as they spat forth a torrent of deadly rounds.


	11. Chapter 11

**Falsa Verum Chapter 11**

Screaming rounds filled the air, an onslaught of catastrophic proportions as lethal shards blazed through the narrow confines and ricocheted off the thick pipes. The heavy industrial engineering withstood the barrage, albeit with deep scoring, but the rounds flew everywhere, bouncing away in random directions. Anything caught in that space would have been shredded, but Beta had already relocated.

Even as Anurax's hands came up Beta was already dropping, hitting the floor and rolling back under a pipe. He felt his backpack generator clip the underside and for a heart-stopping moment he thought he was stuck, but then he cleared the gap and rolled into cover. A moment later the roar of assault cannons let rip and the space he had vacated became a deathtrap. Beta hurriedly rose to his feet and saw out of the corner of his eye Zeck had also withdrawn, one did not live long in a feral environment like this without the ability to run away.

Beta paid him no mind as he dove among the knotwork of pipes, the complicated tangles of metal obscuring his location. The wound in his flank pulled tight and sent knives of pain into his chest but he ignored it, even snivelling loyalist Space Marines knew how to master pain. Behind him the heavy stomps of the Obliterator closed, firing off screeching rounds as he sought to get an angle on the Sorcerer's position. Beta withdrew further into the maze of pipes and tried to lose himself in the mass of twisting ducts but Anurax roared after him, "You can't escape me Beta, this is your death!"

Yet flight was the last thing on Beta's mind, for his mind was already working the problem. Anurax was fierce and powerful, but more than this he was an Alpha Legionnaire, as cunning and guileful as any who ever lived. Yet Anurax's mind had been decaying for years, the Obliterator virus overwhelming his subtle intellect. For all his power and ferocity Anurax was noticeably alone, he had brought no back-up. The conclusion was inescapable, Anurax wanted this kill for himself, he had not alerted his kin so Beta had to kill him before he sent word forth.

Beta slithered through the darkness, seeking to elude Anurax's fury but he heard the unmistakable slurping sound of the Obliterator changing weapons and a moment later the snap-hiss of melta guns. Anurax was cutting his way through the pipes, forcing his way into the tangled knot of convoluted ducts. The air temperature fell rapidly as coolant began to leak out but Anurax cared not, he hacked his way into the space with blasts of searing heat and light that painted shadows onto the walls.

Beta began to feel a germ of an idea forming and he changed direction and as he did so he called out, "Did the Harrowmaster put you up to this?!"

Anurax, called back, "Ha, I volunteered!"

Beta moved through the shadows again and he yelled, "You don't have to do this!"

"But I want to," Anurax snarled back, "I have always wanted to tear off that ridiculous helm of yours and spit down the stump of your neck!"

Beta ducked around a pipe and pressed his back against it as the Obliterator smashed his way nearer, yet the Sorcerer was ready. In the darkness his hands began making arcane gestures and he felt his connection to the warp open as he funnelled power into his casting. Beta had once been a Librarian of the XXth Legion, back in the time they had served the False Emperor, but that was long ago. For millennia he had explored the depths of the Warp and augmented his abilities with arcane learning.

It had been perilous, the knowledge he had accrued had been filled with snares for the unwary, but he had persisted. His power's now covered a wide range of disciplines and arcane topics of lore, including the various afflictions of Chaos. Beta knew that the Obliterator virus was a rapacious infection, consuming everything it touched. Flesh and metal, bone and skin, mind and soul, it was all food to the virus and nothing could withstand such an infection. All Obliterators were on a path to madness and dementia, which worked to his advantage, he had used it before to subdue Anurax.

Beta held still for a moment as he heard Anurax closing, waiting until the moment was right and then the Sorcerer leapt out, casting his spell with a complicated gesture. Anurax was right on the other side of the pipe and his bulk loomed high, so there was no way Beta could miss. The rippling spell washed over the Obliterator, slithering around his form and enveloping him in arcane power. Beta had expected an instant reaction, he had thought that the virus would run wild, mutating Anurax into his final, bestial amalgam of man and weapon. Yet to his complete shock nothing happened, the spell had no effect at all. Anurax's grey lips pulled back over iron teeth and he sneered, "Trying the same trick twice? You are getting feeble-minded, I took precautions against that long ago."

Then his fists came up and he unleashed beams of ravening melta power. The beams seared the air apart, flash-frying oxygen molecules as the fusion blasts sought the Sorcerer's hearts. Beta instantly flung himself aside but felt a beam clip his upper arm, the merest brush grazing his limb. It was the most fleeting contact, but the melta blast effortlessly liquefied his Ceramite, letting it run like molten lava over his vulnerable flesh.

Beta snarled in agony as he felt his left arm engulfed in fire, the inferno blistering across his skin and tearing apart the muscles beneath. With gritted teeth Beta forced the burnt limb against his chest and locked it there, even as he dove behind another pipe. Relentlessly Anurax gave pursuit, chasing him into the darkness with his heavy stomping gait even as he called out, "Come Beta, face me and I will make your death quick!"

Beta's only response was to lift his staff one-handed and dart out of cover, unleashing a blast of lightning as he did so. The warp energy skittered off the Obliterator's thick armour, leaving scorch marks but doing no damage at all to the dense plates and mutated flesh. Anurax laughed at the feeble blow and called out, "You are getting slow and weak!"

Beta dove back into cover but as he did so he heard the Obliterator sucking his melta weapons back in and the slurp of new barrels emerging from his arms. Beta hastily fled down a narrow alcove but as he did so a hammering rattle shot forth. Stubber rounds, hundreds of them battering at his cover. Beta's lip curled at the implied contempt, such a weapon would normally pose no threat to an Astartes but in his damaged state it could wear him down until it found a vital spot.

"What happened to making it quick?!" Beta cried as he wove among the tangled pipes.

"I lied!" Anurax chortled as he moved to find a clear angle of attack, "The Harrowmaster said to finish you quickly but I want you to suffer!"

Beta made to dart across a short gap but was pulled up short when he found the Obliterator had got there ahead of him. Anurax was facing slightly away, looking among the forest of ducts, but it would take him only a single step to come about. Instantly Beta lifted his staff and let loose his lightning, not at the Obliterator but at the conduits around him, breaking them apart to shower down in pieces. Razor sharp metal and freezing coolant rained down upon Anurax, bouncing off his plates in a clatter of metal on Ceramite.

Beta knew it could not harm the mutated Space Marine but it did buy him a second to retreat, falling back to desperately seek cover. He knew his options were diminishing, the chances of survival dropping second by second. He was injured and weakened, his arm rendered useless and his strength failing. His body's ability to regenerate was crippled by the Warp Venom coursing through him and the pain was actually starting to become annoying. His battle spells had done nothing to slow the Obliterator and Beta knew his most potent Sorceries required time to prepare that he simply didn't have. For the first time Beta found death closing in for him and he had no idea what to do.

Suddenly a hammering rattle rang out and Beta felt concussive impacts slamming into his back. Stubber rounds, tearing deep furrows into his armour. Beta forced his legs to take another step and another but then the flexible seals around his knee gave way as bullets tore into his tendons. Beta cried out as his leg gave way beneath him, dropping him to the deck in an undignified heap. He rolled over and saw Anurax closing, that abhorrent face grinning widely. The monstrous beast of a Marine loomed over him and raised his hands to point right at the Sorcerer's head.

Beta refused to stoop to pleading for his life and raised his head to look death in the face. He thought he could see the bullets in the gun that would surely end his life but one second before it fired there was a flash of light. From nowhere a las-shot flew forth, chipping Anurax's shoulder and marring the paintwork. Beta's head snapped about and he saw Zeck lurking among the tangle of pipes, looking shocked at his own temerity.

Anurax frowned at the disruption and said, "Are you serious?" He lifted his hands to kill the annoying gnat but as he did so another mutant charged out of the dark, holding a short spear in his hands. It was the one with too many eyes and he screamed as he ran forward, slamming his spear into Anurax's waist.

The Obliterator didn't even sway as the metal sank deep. He merely moved his elbow in a casual fashion and clubbed the mutant to the deck. The pathetic wretch wailed as his jaw broke and he clasped both hands to his face as he rolled about in pain. But that was nothing compared to what happened next.

Anurax extruded a flamer nozzle from one hand and then with barely a twitch he doused the mutant in burning promethium. Terrible shrieks arose as the mutant burned, sheets of yellow flames covering him head to toe. Shrill cries were torn from his throat as the mutant flailed wildly but nothing could prevent this agonising death. Yet Beta paid it no mind, for his attention was fixed firmly upon the spear in Anurax's flank.

The shaft of metal was shrinking, being sucked within the Obliterator and eaten by the virus, turned into raw material for the production of ammunition. Suddenly an idea sparked in Beta's mind and he spat a cantrip, a short spell in a long dead language. Anurax was already turning back but as he did so a long strip of metal shot out from the walls and stabbed into his arm. Another and another followed, each one binding him in a web of metal ropes, no more than a finger width in diameter.

"Pathetic," Anurax sneered as he made to break the web but he was shocked to find he could not move. His arms refused to respond to his will and he looked stunned as he cried, "What is happening?!"

Beta slowly picked himself up off the floor as he said, "You should be more careful about where you place your ambushes, your virus has a hunger you can't control."

It was true, the Obliterator virus was rapidly devouring the metal strands and more was being ripped from the walls as the warp infestation sought to sate its endless hunger, dragging ever more material into itself. Anurax's flesh was starting to bulge as his virus consumed more material than it could cope with, swelling obscenely as he pleaded, "No! Make it stop!"

Beta however declared, "The more your virus eats the stronger it gets and the stronger it gets the more it wants to eat. It will never stop until it consumes everything it can, but how can it eat an entire starship? How can you devour the Shadow? The answer is: you can't, no more than a man can drink an ocean."

Anurax's form was barely recognisable now, a lumpy mass of metal as round as a ball, with barely a few scraps of flesh pulled over the surface. His stretched face moved slightly and he whispered, "I can't…"

But Beta had no mercy as he said, "Goodbye Anurax, I won't miss you."

The ball of swollen material was almost pure metal now, the last scraps of flesh disappearing under its ever-increasing bulk. Then Anurax ceased to be, killed by his own virus and as his lifeforce failed it took the infestation into the embrace of death with him. Yet Beta did not bother to watch, merely collapsing on the floor as the pain of his injuries at last overwhelmed him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Falsa Verum Chapter 12**

Delta fretted as he walked towards the Strategium, his concerns turning over and over in his mind. Lowly mutant crewmen bowed and scraped before him but he paid them no mind, they were nothing but dregs and merited none of his attention. Of far greater concern was the summons by his new lord, the Harrowmaster, demanding his presence.

At his side marched Epsilon who was grumbling, "Why does he want to see us?"

Delta sighed, "I don't know, but it must be important."

Epsilon muttered, "Maybe our heads are next for the chopping block."

Delta shared that worry but he stated, "We've done nothing to warrant execution."

"Since when has that mattered?" Epsilon grumbled, "Beta hasn't been found and our new lord is angry, he's already demonstrated what he does to his followers when he's irked."

Delta knew it to be true, the Harrowmaster had shown no compunction about killing his own troops and if he were looking for more lives to end the pair of them were the logical choice for they had been closest to Beta. Delta shoved these thoughts down as they entered the Strategium, marching past the lurking serf crewmen cowering in the corners to see that some changes had been made. The space was still uncomfortable and disturbing but at the centre of the room a large chair had been installed, no, a throne. It was grandiose and imposing, adorned with serpents and many-headed hydras that testified as to its allegiance. Delta looked upon it with scorn, such obvious displays of authority were beneath them, or so he had been told. Anonymity and subterfuge were the hallmarks of the Legion and this kind of blatant symbolism was a crude statement of power, it spoke to the ego of the occupant more than the observer. Yet the Harrowmaster seemed pleased by it, leaning back with his spear braced against one armrest.

The pair bowed lowed to their master and Delta said, "Lord, you summoned us."

"Indeed," the Harrowmaster replied, "You have information I need."

Delta kept a sigh of relief from his lips as he removed his helm, clipping it to his waist as he said, "How may we assist you?"

The Harrowmaster kept his own helm on as he uttered, "This ship is not what I expected. I need to understand my troops, tell me more of this Splinter."

Delta thought about it for a moment then said, "We are a loyal cell of the Legion."

The Harrowmaster sounded irked as he replied, "No, speak of their character and ambitions. Start by telling me where they come from."

Delta blinked in surprise then said, "We are all from distant places, coming together to fight the Long War against the hated Imperium. Some of the squads served under Vorshaan but they abandoned him when it was obvious his defeat was imminent. Others came later but all serve the greater Legion."

The Harrowmaster nodded then asked, "What do they want?"

Delta didn't understand his inquiry that but Epsilon stepped in to explain, "They want rewards, all of them are here for what they can get. Spoils and slaves, slaughter and the favours of Chaos, the only true commonality here is greed."

The Harrowmaster thoughtfully tapped his chin and said, "Beta thought to play them off against each other but he failed. This Splinter has no true unity, no creed or banner to fight under. No wonder things fell apart, we need to correct that, we need a symbol to unite us."

Delta ventured, "The death of Beta could do it."

"No, that is a temporary fix, they need a single point to rally around," the Harrowmaster mused then he fixed them with a glare, "What of you two, you were trained by Beta personally."

Delta felt an icy shiver run down his spine and he replied, "Beta got our squadmate killed, we have no loyalty to him."

The Harrowmaster stared at them for a moment then he slowly rose to his feet, he drew himself up and walked forward till he was eye to eye with them then said, "I am not planning to kill you, at this particular moment. You have the information I need, tell me… what do you want?"

Delta answered instantly, "To make the Alpha Legion supreme among the stars."

The Harrowmaster shook his head slightly and said, "Those are Beta's words but it is not what is in your heart. What is your goal?"

Epsilon declared, "To see the final victory of Chaos, to destroy the hated Imperium and the tear the False Emperor out of his tomb-throne."

"No, Beta has clouded your minds," the Harrowmaster stated, "You speak of objectives, steps along the road. Chaos is the tool we use to complete our goals but it is not the goal in and of itself. Ask yourself this… what do you desire?"

Delta was set back by the idea, never had he thought of his own personal ambitions before. He realised then that Beta had taught him of the Legion and the long war but he had never encouraged them to seek out their own goals, to desire more than he had given them. Beta had wanted servants and minions, not partners, not true equals. In a way, he had been as restrictive and dogmatic as the hated loyalist lapdogs.

A thought stirred in Delta's hearts and he proclaimed, "Greatness: I want to become truly glorious. I want my name to ring across the stars, I want word of my coming to make armies retreat and compel men to weep in fear."

"Truth at last," the Harrowmaster replied, "And you?"

Epsilon responded, "I want the ability to make my will reality, I desire power."

"Good," the Harrowmaster affirmed, "Power and glory, these are goals worth striving for. But how shall we achieve these goals?"

"Through the Legion," Delta guessed.

The Harrowmaster nodded, "Yes, that is what Beta kept from you. Through the Legion all things are possible; we work as one to elevate each and every one of us. We are one and together we shall all achieve our goals."

Delta had never thought of it that way and he said, "The Legion is all and we are all Legion."

The Harrowmaster nodded as he said, "Then you understand, serve me loyally and I shall make your dreams come true."

Suddenly there was a sound at the door and all heads turned to see what the commotion was. Delta pushed his thoughts aside for now and was surprised to see a knot of Chaos Marines entering, dragging something twice their size behind them with the screech of metal on metal. At their head strode Talgor, his helmed head raised imperiously as he strode in and he called, "Forgive the interruption my lord, but we have important news."

The Harrowmaster turned to face them and hissed, "What is this?"

Talgor came to a halt and his comrades pulled the lumpy mass up to him. Delta eyed the mass of metallic bulges but the intruder said, "Anurax found Beta."

Epsilon muttered, "From your tone, I take it things didn't go so well."

Talgor sighed, "Alas no, it seems the deserter got away. We found no trace of him."

Delta idly kicked the ball of metal and asked, "So what's this then?"

"That's Anurax," Talgor explained, "Or rather what's left of him."

Delta was stunned to hear that and his jaw fell in shock. Now he looked closely he could see scraps of Ceramite buried in the mass, bearing marks of the Alpha Legion. Delta gazed upon the remains of the Obliterator and gasped, "What happened to him?"

"Some spell, I'd wager," Epsilon stated, "Beta always had a trick lurking behind his back."

Suddenly the Harrowmaster took a step forward and hissed, "You came all this way merely to report a failure?"

Talgor warily replied, "You needed to know."

"And where is Beta now?" the Harrowmaster growled.

Now Talgor did sound wary as he confessed, "Unknown, but he can't have got far. I've redirected all squads to the area."

The Harrowmaster gripped his spear tightly and said, "This ship is filled with failures and incompetents."

Delta swallowed a glut of trepidation and said, "My lord, Beta will be found."

But the Harrowmaster growled, "This is intolerable, something must be done about the state of affairs on this ship."

Silence fell as all waited to see how the Harrowmaster would act, everybody holding their breaths expecting violence to erupt. Delta for his part eyed Talgor, thinking that shortly his head would be separated from his shoulders. Yet to his surprise the Harrowmaster did nothing, merely standing there staring at the fused remnants of Anurax. Then the Harrowmaster unexpectedly turned away and strode back towards his throne. Delta frowned in confusion as the Lord settled into his throne and called out, "Attend me and someone fetch a pict-camera."

Some of the lurking mutants scurried away as the half-dozen Chaos Marines approached the seat of their lord. The Harrowmaster laced his fingers before him and declared, "It seems this Splinter is lacking in unity and zeal."

Talgor bowed his head and said, "My Lord, I assure you every effort is being made."

The Harrowmaster shook his helm and uttered, "Do not make excuses; the fault is not yours it is mine."

Delta was completely confused now and ventured, "Master, surely we can…"

Yet the Harrowmaster overrode him saying, "This Splinter is ineffective for we are not one. The Alpha Legion must have unity of purpose and of action but we are divided, torn apart by our differences."

Everybody glanced at each other, wondering where this was going but then the mutants returned with a Skull-probe, one that had a pict-lens extending from its jaw. The device floated into mid-air and the Harrowmaster ordered, "Transmit this ship-wide, I want this seen on every deck and every holo-projector."

A moment later a little red light began to blink on the device and the Harrowmaster declared, "To every soul on board this ship, I offer greetings. Many of have not heard of me, but know that I am the lord of this vessel and all who travel on board her. You are the wretched and forsaken of the galaxy, the lost and the damned, but here you have worth, here you are part of the Legion. The Alpha Legion has many heads but we act together as one legion with a single will. We are a union of the alike and the like-minded. This is only possible because we have a unique bond, a shared trust, a secret only we can be allowed to know. Yet it seems that scurrilous cur Beta sought to keep this secret from you, for he did not trust you, but I will not allow our compact to fracture. Thus I shall share the principle secret of the Alpha Legion with you."

Delta had barely followed this speech; he was stumped as to his lord's intent. Yet his confusion rose to outright shock as the Harrowmaster lifted his hands to his helm and undid the seals. Slowly he unbound his helm and with a hiss of escaping air he pulled it free, revealing his face. Delta had never seen his lord's face but he instantly recognised it, how could he not?

The eyes were deep green and the jawline was strong. His head was completely bald, not shaven but simply lacking all hair and his face was unscarred. There was steel in his gaze and a cool intelligence, as swift and as merciless as a viper, a mind that could overturn whole worlds on a whim. Here was an intellect that could see a million angles and understand the nuances of each and every one to the ultimate decimal point. He radiated power and charisma, a lodestone of authority that none could gainsay or think to question. Delta had seen these features before many times, carried on the faces on many genic Alpha Legionnaires, though none could approach his majesty or power. Delta felt his knees give way beneath him and he fell to the deck, as did everyone else in the chamber, assuming their natural position of subservience before this superior being. The individual on the throne lifted his head and stared directly into the pict-camera as he announced, "Now you are all part of the Legion. Behold your true lord and know the ultimate secret of the Alpha Legion and its twin-Primarchs."

Then he uttered, "No more shall you call me Harrowmaster, henceforth I reclaim my true name: Omegon, Primarch of the Alpha Legion."


	13. Chapter 13

**Falsa Verum Chapter 13**

The roof was low here and the air was bad, a moist and clammy smell that forced its way into the nostrils and tickled the back of the throat. It was all-pervasive, unavoidable no matter how one tried to forget it. The smell reminded one of decaying mould or maggoty meat, an unappealing aroma of age and rot. Zeck tried to breathe through his mouth but it was giving his throat a furry feeling so he had no choice but to endure the smell.

The twists were holed up in a derelict gap between two shafts of metal that had slumped into each other. They had fled here following the battle with the monstrosity, hurrying away before anyone could catch them. Sounds of heavy feet had chased them, evidence that hunters were scouring the area. Only Zeck's antenna had let them avoid detection, his abilities taking them away from the pursuing Masters. Yet the web had closed inexorably and the twists had been forced to go deep, sinking into the bowels of the Hull until they bordered upon the Freeze itself.

Here they had stopped, taking rest as they figured out what they would do next. They had chosen this spot because it was well concealed, but also because it had light. In one corner a column of strange glow arose from a short pedestal, shining motes that floated upwards in a steady stream. Zeck had never seen the like but Beta had called it Hololithic projector, whatever that was supposed to mean. Alk seemed fascinated by it, crouching before the lights and trying to catch them in his huge hands. His meaty paws passed through the lights without impediment, leaving the stream exactly as it was but he did not seem annoyed. Each time he missed he would chuckle under his breath and reach out once more, trying to catch another light.

In another corner Zeck, Lynia and Refus were huddled together, muttering between themselves. Refus was talking resentfully, "Damn it, Munny deserved better."

Lynia concurred, "No arguments here, that was a bad way to go."

Zeck knew what they meant, Munny had died screaming, covered head to toe in flames. It had been hard to witness, the little twist had stood no chance against that monstrosity. Zeck had never seen anything like it before, none of them had and he doubted that even together they could have done anything more than irritate it. Even his laspistol, which he had once thought of as a fearsome weapon, had proved completely useless. No wonder Beta hadn't been concerned when they first met. Had the Master not done something weird they would all be dead now.

Zeck's attention was dragged back as Lynia said, "We should leave him."

Zeck realised she meant Beta but Refus looked panicked as he protested, "We can't, we'd never get away."

Lynia snorted, "Not likely in his condition."

That made all their eyes turn to the Master, who was slumped in a corner. Beta looked at death's door, sprawled against a bulkhead with his legs flung out before him. He head was in his chin and his staff leant against his shoulder as black fluids dribbled out the wound in his side. Beta had seemed tireless and invincible, leading them into the dark until they found this spot and then he had collapsed. Since then he hadn't said a word, silently sitting there without moving.

Lynia growled, "We should never have agreed to go with him."

Zeck agreed, "I said that earlier, but what other choice did we have, he'd have killed us if we refused."

Refus looked worried as he said, "You don't think he can hear us... do you?"

"I wouldn't put anything past him," Lynia muttered.

Refus looked at Zeck and said, "Maybe you should talk to him."

Zeck started in surprise and said, "And say what?"

"I dunno," Refus replied, "Tell him we're off."

Zeck snorted, "You tell him."

"No," Lynia argued, "He's taken an interest in you. You're the only one who can reason with him."

"Yeah," Refus urged, "You do it."

Zeck glared at them but knew he had lost this argument. Testily he turned his back on them and walked away, headed towards the fallen Master. Zeck carefully examined Beta as he closed, seeing no movement and for an instant dared to hope the Master had died. But just as he was about to grin Beta stirred and said, "What do you want?"

Zeck stopped a few paces shy of Beta and swallowed to clear his throat then said, "We've been talking, we think this is as far as we can go."

Beta lifted his head slightly and said, "No, we must press on."

Zeck dared to say, "You can carry on if you want, we're not going any further."

Now Beta's gaze came up and he fixed the twist with a steely glare as he growled, "We shall continue."

Zeck felt his fear and resentment warring within him but he knew what the Master could do and his sense of self-preservation won out. Instead he dared to say, "What was that thing?"

"An old enemy," Beta growled, "One I am glad to be rid off."

Zeck mused, "It felt… wrong. All dirty inside, like a dead normie left to rot too long."

"You sensed that?" Beta mused, "Anurax was tainted, Chaos had claimed him."

"Koas?" Zeck wondered aloud.

"The Ruinous Powers," Beta ventured, "The Four Gods of the Warp."

"Oh, the Four," Zeck said, "We hear of them, our tribe never really got into that but some of the twist clans worship them. They say they grant magic powers."

"Fools," Beta snarled, "Chaos rewards the strong, not pitiful filth like that. Those clans can bray aloud and cut themselves all they like, the Dark Gods will take no interest in them."

Zeck dared to say, "But you and that other one…"

Beta drew in a breath now and uttered, "We of the Legion take what we need, but no more. Chaos is our tool, we do not let it rule us. Anurax went too far, he was overwhelmed by the power and ultimately became its puppet. The Legion refuses to bow to anyone, we chart our own course."

"Legion, is that what you call yourselves?" Zeck asked.

Beta nodded and explained, "We were one of twenty Legions, forged long ago by a tyrant Emperor. He made us to fight his wars but he cared not for us. We were tools, limited and bound to his whim and that of his Primarch sons. They forced us into a war greater than any other, a Heresy that tore the stars apart, but they refused to give us the weapons we needed to win. We could have reeved across the stars and become the supreme power in the galaxy but they refused to accept that Chaos was the tool we needed to use. They preferred we remained limited and bound to mundane strictures. The Alpha Legion could have become rulers of all, but they would not take the necessary steps, so they had to go."

Zeck was lost but he could sense the truth of Beta's tirade for the Master was revealing his real thoughts. The Twist didn't know who he was referring to but he sounded angry, this was an old grudge, left to fester for a long time.

Carefully Zeck pressed, "So why are the Masters after you?"

Beta breathed out and said, "Power is a complicated thing, a new lord came and decided he did not want to share power. I was a threat to him and he decided to remove me from the board. I can't blame him really, I would have done the same sooner or later, but I intend to make him pay regardless."

Zeck was doubtful about that and said, "How? You can barely walk."

Beta shook his head and said, "My wounds are significant but I will manage. All I need is to reach my weapons cache, there are items there that will ensure my victory."

Zeck looked at his wound and remarked, "I don't think you will make it that far."

"A Legionaries' will is steel," Beta declared, "I only need a little time to recover."

"Let hope so," Zeck muttered, "My laspistol won't do much good if the other Masters find us."

"You provided a distraction," Beta commented.

"I… I was aiming for the head," Zeck confessed.

"Ha," Beta muttered, "We'll have to work on your aim."

For a moment Zeck almost forgot how much he loathed all the Masters, but suddenly there was a flash behind them and Zeck turned to see a peculiar sight. The shimmering projection had disappeared, the rising spots of lights fading as another image formed The outline was blurry and obscured by static, but the sight was unmistakeable, another Master. The lord was sitting in a chair and staring out of the projection as if looking right at Zeck.

Alk took a step backwards and whined as his new toy was taken away from him but Zeck was enthralled and gasped, "What is that?"

With a grind of damaged machinery Beta laboured to his feet and snarled, "Harrowmaster."

The image in the projection began to speak, the voice issuing from a tiny patch on the pedestal. It sounded tiny and oddly high pitched but Zeck assumed that was because of the broken-down nature of the projector. The figure was speaking and Zeck tried to follow what he was telling them but it was hard to follow. The being was making references to things he didn't understand and talking about events he had never heard of. Without a context none of it made sense but Beta seemed to understand everything, he sounded irate as he growled, "No… no, he can't be."

Zeck frowned but the projection wasn't done yet, slowly he reached up and removed his helmet, revealing the face beneath. Even through a distorted projection the face made him step back in shock. The being was powerful and stern, as all masters were, but the eyes were a blaze of malevolent intent, boring right into him. Zeck's jaw fell as the hard eyes held his gaze, trapping his vision and holding it in a vice. He couldn't look away from that hypnotic gaze, his will was dissolving and his body froze as an instinctive fear whelmed up within him. He was trapped and helpless, ensnared in that gaze like a rodent before a viper, waiting for the strike to come.

Suddenly there was a shower of sparks and a brilliant light that burned for a single moment then snapped off. Zeck blinked as the image disappeared, leaving behind green blobs in his vision. Zeck shook his head and blinked hard, trying to see again and slowly his sight returned. He looked up and saw Beta standing with his staff rammed into the base of the pedestal, which was now sparking erratically.

Beta's wounds seemed to be overruled by his will and he sounded angry as he spat, "No, this isn't possible."

Zeck swallowed to ease his throat and he said, "What was that?"

"It doesn't matter," Beta growled, "He's dead, both of them are. The Primarchs are dead."

"What is a Primarch?" Zeck queried in bewilderment.

Beta however was still muttering to himself, "I made sure of it, I made sure that they died. I know they are gone… but then I never saw the bodies. Could it be; could Omegon have evaded his doom? No… no I refuse to believe it. This is some trick, it has to be."

Zeck wasn't following this and asked, "What is going on?"

Beta finally returned to his senses and he looked at the twist as he growled, "It is nothing, I merely need to adjust my plans."

Zeck frowned as he said, "I don't understand what's going on."

Yet Beta had already stepped aside and had started making marks on the floor with the tip of his staff. He described a large circle upon the ground and then began etching strange runes around the edge that hurt Zeck's eyes to look upon. The twists gathered together and Lynia asked, "What are you doing?"

Beta continued his workings, meticulously etching symbols into the floor as he muttered, "Something I really wanted to avoid."

Refus inquired innocently, "Like what?"

"Perform a summoning," Beta stated, "We are going to call forth a Daemon."

The Twists all looked at each other in befuddlement and then Zeck spoke for them all as he said, "What's a Daemon?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Falsa Verum Chapter 14**

The circle sat upon the floor, seemingly inert and harmless. It was so simple and yet so powerful, a weaving of subtly and grace that deceived the eye with its flowing elegance. Beta had never been one to stop accruing power and this was his most potent spellcraft, a ritual that could summon a Daemon and bind it into place. Around that circle the mutants stood, eying each other warily. Beta had told them to take up cardinal positions and wait while he worked. So they did, nervously waiting for the conclusion of his work. Beta had no need of petty chants, throngs of cultists or smoking candles, his psychic abilities were advanced enough to perform the ritual through pure thought, though it would help if he didn't keep getting distracted.

Zeck looked worried as he said, "I still don't get it, what is a Daemon?"

Lynia answered, "He said it comes from outside the Hull, a thing from a realm of nightmares."

Refus snorted, "Lot of old rust if you ask me, there's no such things."

Lynia snapped back, "Nobody asked you."

Refus looked angry at being put down but then Beta growled, "Be silent."

Sullen quiet descended as Beta returned to his labours, forming arcane words in his mind and sending them into the Warp. It was harder than he let on, his wounds were severe and his power was flagging. The Warp Venom was more damaging than he had admitted, without his spells he would have succumbed already. It was obvious to him that he wouldn't make it to his cache and that left him with only one option, to seek outside help. Even then he would have been reluctant to contact a Daemon but the message from the Harrowmaster, no Omegon, had shaken him to the core. Was it a trick, a trap or an honest threat, he didn't know and it was time to get radical.

As Beta exerted his psychic might the air began to cool and the dark shadows advanced. The mutants looked fearful and this heads snapped about in shock as ice crystals formed on the walls. Beta could feel the summoning taking place, like a cork being pulled from a bottle and doubled his efforts, ignoring the burning sensation building in his hearts.

Alk rumbled, "Is cold."

"Hush," Lynia soothed him, "It will be alright, just stay still."

The pressure was immense now and Beta had to focus intently, reciting arcane syllables in his head. He could feel something approaching, something that defied the restrictions of space and time and sanity. Something from outside reality itself. Suddenly there was a shift in the air, a feeling of presence felt only by the kinaesthetic senses. There was no change in the light, no rush of air or noise of an intruder. One second there was nothing but the dank little alcove and then the next there was a new presence.

Beta focussed his eyes and saw within the ritual circle an entity was standing. It resembled a mortal, a plain and unimpressive man of middling height with brown hair. He was lightly muscled and of indeterminate age, neither young nor old, completely average in every way. Yet within his eyes were depthless pits of infinity, a window into the raw cosmos where stars were birthed and died, each one nothing but a brief candle to a creature who beheld eternity. Beta realised his rite had worked and breathed out in triumph and trepidation, "Harbinger."

The mutants started in surprise and Lynia said, "That's it?"

Zeck agreed, "I was expecting something a bit more… impressive."

Yet Beta warned them, "Do not judge this thing by appearances, you behold a fragment of a Daemon. It is by far the most dangerous entity you will ever encounter and I include myself in that assessment."

The Daemon grinned smugly and then spoke, "Yes I am. Allow me to introduce myself; I am Harbinger, the Cupbearer of Tzeentch."

Beta saw the mutants flinch at the mention of the God of Change and treachery, they did not know the word but the mere sound of it cut at their souls. Beta however steeled himself and said, "Daemon, I have summoned you."

Harbinger looked about disdainfully and remarked, "This is a pathetic summoning, where are the chanting hordes? Where are the blood sacrifices?"

Beta snorted, "If you want pomp and circumstance go talk to Lorgar's whelps."

Harbinger scowled as it muttered, "No thank you. Even I, a Neverborn, think they are a pathetic bunch of grovelling toadies. Tormenting them is as much amusement as whipping a rock."

"Then let us get to business," Beta proposed.

Harbinger however didn't seem interested, instead looking at the mutants saying, "My, my, look at you, haven't you all grown big. Lynia, Alk, Zeck and Refus… but where's Munny? He was supposed to be here."

Zeck gasped, "You know us?!"

Harbinger smiled widely, "Oh yes, I know you all, I have watched you since you were born. I was there the day your mother died, Zeck. Her soul still screams as it burns in the depths of the Warp. Did you know that she curses your name, curses that she laid down her life to protect a pathetic whelp like you."

"Don't listen to it," Beta snapped, "It's trying to get into your heads."

Zeck however didn't listen, "You shut up, you can't talk about her!"

But Lynia added, "It's toying with you, block it out."

Harbinger grinned at her and said, "Ah Lynia, did you know Munny was in love with you? He carried his passion for so long, the fool never suspected that you secretly dream of running off with trader Vax."

Zeck grew red in the face as he spat, "You don't know anything about us!"

Yet Harbinger's grin became wicked as it said, "I know Anurax wasn't supposed to find you until later. Munny should have died three days from now, after Alk got his brains blown out but before Refus froze to death. The future shifts from moment to moment but such is the way of the universe, change is the only constant."

The mutants bristled at that and looked as if they would step forward but Beta snapped, "Enough! It seeks to break your wills, do not allow it entry. One more word and it will own you."

Sullen silence fell as Harbinger turned its attention upon the Sorcerer and said, "You spoiled my merriment."

Beta snarled, "We are not here for your amusement. I come to bargain."

"Bargaining, entertainment, food, it is all the same to us," Harbinger retorted, "The suffering of the living is our sustenance, it is the air we breathe and the water we swim in."

Beta faced the Daemon and said, "Cease your prattling, I know you play for time, trying to break out. But this is only a projection, your true essence remains in the Warp. You have only as much power as I allow, these bindings will not break."

Harbinger glanced down at the ritual circle and commented, "Yes, I see you have improved your craft, it is annoyingly restrictive. Very well, say what you came to say."

Beta stared at the Daemon and said, "Omegon, how can he be here?"

Harbinger grinned as it replied, "The Hydra is everywhere and nowhere."

It was going to answer in riddle talk, Beta realised, a common response of the Neverborn, yet Beta was no novice to such conversations. The Sorcerer drew in a breath and said, "Alpharius Omegan is dead, I made sure of it."

Harbinger countered with a grin, "The Hydra has died many times before, Yarant, Pluto, Eskandor, Danevra, Necromunda… yet always he returns."

Beta realised the Daemon was toying with him and said, "It matters not, this Legion is no longer bound to his will. His petty restrictions have no bearing upon us; we are free to take whatever we want."

Yet Harbinger laughed, "Oh Beta you do amuse me. So convinced of your purpose yet you cannot see that you are wrapped in chains of your own making. You will never be free of your own heart."

Beta scowled at that and said, "I care not, I will forge my own destiny. No one can hold me back."

But Harbinger chortled, "Fool, none can escape their past, especially you. Did I not warn you that your dead do not rest easy and that they are closer than you think."

"Enough," Beta snapped, "I am not here to play games with you. You live in the past, present and future, you see it all so tell me what will happen."

Harbinger frowned at that and remarked, "Where's the fun in that? No, I think you can figure it out on your own. "

Beta had expected no less and stated, "Then give me the means to forge my own future."

Harbinger cocked its head and said, "First you must offer payment."

Beta thought about it then said, "I know you have crossed paths with a mongrel loyalist Chapter. I can help you destroy them."

"Pah," Harbinger spat, "I don't need your help to end the Storm Heralds. I owe them pain, but so much more. Toran must die before he can be allowed to fulfil his destiny and Novak… ah poor Novak, lost all alone in the cold darkness, his endless sorrow will be a delight to behold. But as for Arvael… well for him I have special torment devised, he and I have an entwined destiny."

Beta wasn't really listening but thinking about what else he could offer and he counted off his options. He dismissed a variety of things he knew the Daemon would reject and inexorably drew his options down to one. It was a harsh thing but he knew it would appeal. Slowly he lifted his eyes and said, "I can offer you what you require most."

"Hmmm… tempting," Harbinger mused, "But to mean anything it must cost you personally."

"It will," Beta stated, "Your payment shall be delivered."

"Then we have a bargain," Harbinger replied, "So what shall it be? Power, knowledge or healing?"

"Why not all three?" Beta stated boldly.

"Ha," Harbinger stated, "Your ambition is delightful, come then let us seal our pact."

Beta lowered the wards a microscopic degree and Harbinger waved a hand. Instantly there was a surge of pain in his side but Beta held still as felt the Warp Venom being scoured from his flesh, undone by Daemonic power. In moments his system was cleansed of toxins and he felt his augmented physiology begin to restore itself, rebuilding his strength and vigour. He hadn't felt this good in days and he sighed in relief as he let his spells dissolve, no longer needed to sustain him. "That was the healing," Beta stated, "What of power?"

Harbinger nodded and a line of glowing letters formed in the air, a minor cantrip. Beta memorise the incantation in moments, committing it to memory. He was puzzled though, this was a meagre spell, barely worth knowing and he uttered, "What's this for?"

"You'll know when the time comes," Harbinger retorted, "Now for knowledge: you are bound within chains of your own making and your only gaoler is yourself."

"Would it kill you to be less obtuse?" Beta snapped.

"I am not going to do everything for you," Harbinger quipped, "Figure the rest out for yourself."

Beta growled angrily, "Then we are done here."

"What of my due?" Harbinger queried.

"It will be paid in full once I succeed," Beta affirmed, "I have no wish to be indebted to a Daemon."

Beta began to recite in his head the incantation to dispel the summoning. Harbinger began to fade away but as it became translucent it gave one last declaration, "Remember Beta, your dead do not rest easy and they are closer than you think."

At last the Daemon was gone and everybody breathed easier. Zeck was the first to speak, "That was strange."

"You have no idea," Beta muttered, "Be glad you came away with your skin still attached."

"So what now?" Lynia pressed.

"Now we press on with our quest," Beta stated firmly, "Let's move before we are discovered."


	15. Chapter 15

**Falsa Verum Chapter 15**

"So what are we going to do?" Delta asked. The question hung in the air, waiting to be answered but there was no response forthcoming. It could not be ignored however, the question must be answered, they all knew it. By fate, destiny or sheer dumb luck, it no longer mattered. The situation had changed beyond all control and they had to find a way to respond.

They were gathered in Delta's quarters, which were surprisingly bare, boasting only the usual accruements and tools an Astartes needed to maintain his gear and weapons and not much else. The walls were bare metal, the sleeping cot little more than a rough mat and the armour stand was empty. Some Chaos Marines adorned their dwellings with trophies or emblems of the Dark Gods, to attract ethereal favour, but Delta had never had time for that. Glory was found in deeds not baubles, actions defined him not material things.

Delta was standing in the corner, with his arms crossed as he looked to his guests for answers. Epsilon was stood at a plain workbench, toying with a micro-lathe, an obvious distraction so as not to answer the question. Across from him was Talgor, who was a most surprising guest. Delta had never expected Talgor of all people to want to speak to them in private, but here he was. The Ultramarine turncoat was honing the edge of a short gladius, creating a grating rasp noise as a cover for the fact that he too did not want to speak first. They all had their helms off, so to converse freely and Delta could see their wariness writ large.

Eventually Delta drew in a breath and repeated, "I said, what are we to do?"

Epsilon finally looked up and spat, "He's a Primarch, what can we do?"

Delta sighed to himself, for that was the crux of the matter. The shocking revelations that their lord was, in fact, the mythical Primarch Omegon had rocked the foundations of their understanding. Delta had heard of Alpharius and Omegon, Beta oft waxed on about their mistakes, but never had he thought to meet either of them. Beta had asserted that they were dead, sent to their graves ten millennia ago, yet here he was.

Delta had been overwhelmed by Omegon's presence, his sheer power and charisma beyond measure. Omegon had bent the world around him; drawing all attention to himself and making everything else seem mundane and tawdry. Simply to stand next to him had been enough to assert his dominance, all others reduced to servitude by his towering authority. Yet once out of his presence Delta's doubts had started to return, the notion that events were slipping out of control.

Delta drew in a breath and said, "Omegon walks among us, but where has he been for ten millennia? What has he been doing? Why did he leave the Alpha Legion alone for so long?"

Epsilon dismissively stated, "Apparently posing as the Harrowmaster."

Delta shook his head and said, "The Harrowmaster is one lord of the Legion, but what of the others? The Warmonger, the Broker, the Observer, the Soothsayer, the Negotiator and the Dispatcher. They bind this Legion together, turning a scattering of splinters into one unified whole."

Epsilon mused, "Maybe he's all of them, merely masks to keep his identity secret."

Yet Delta disagreed, "No, their feuds are too bitter to fake. The Alpha Legion wouldn't throw away operational efficiency for appearances. There is more going on here, I am sure of it."

Suddenly the rasping noise stopped and Delta turned to look at Talgor. The turncoat sheathed his blade and growled, "When were you planning to tell me?"

Delta blinked in surprise at the anger upon his face and blurted, "Tell you what?"

Talgor snarled, "That this Legion has two Primarchs, one of whom still lives!"

Delta was put back by that but Epsilon replied candidly, "It didn't matter, they were dead, or so we supposed."

"Explain," Talgor snarled.

Delta drew in a breath and elaborated, "I heard the tale during my ascension. The Primarch Alpharius had a twin brother, Omegon. They were identical in every way, even down to the way they thought: one soul in two bodies. They could swap places without comment, in fact, they delighted in it. Nobody outside the Legion was allowed to know the secret, it was our most precious asset, we would have died before revealing it. Though it is unclear if the False Emperor was aware of that truth."

"What happened to them?" Talgor probed.

Epsilon replied, "That is hard to ascertain, the Heresy was as harsh for us as the Imperium itself. Communications broke down and the Splinters began to follow their own course. Reports came that one of them died at Pluto, another at Eskandor, Yarant and a dozen other places."

"Those reports can't all be true," Talgor muttered.

"It didn't matter," Delta declared, "The Legion was designed from the outset to be able to operate without them. In time a few lesser Lords rose to prominence and took overall control, they rise and fall as wars takes them but we always had operated under a loose command structure anyway."

Talgor's lip curled and he whispered, "And which one of the Primarchs burned Ultramar?"

"What do you care," Epsilon sneered, "You aren't an Ultramarine anymore."

Talgor glared at him and spat, "I was driven out from Macragge for daring to think for myself, the supposedly noble Ultramarines are as hide-bound and moribund as Terra itself. Still I remember what was Ultramar was supposed to be, only for it to be ruined by Traitors."

Delta was confused as he queried, "You blame the Legions for that, yet you signed up with us willingly?"

Talgor's face fell as he replied, "I didn't really have many options, but I realised that the Imperium has failed utterly. It is a crumbling ruin, a rotting cage made of dead ideals. To topple the Imperium is a mercy killing; if it is to end it should end in fire. Yet I won't forget who set doom this in motion and I tell you now, I will not serve Omegon."

"Don't be an idiot," Epsilon exclaimed, "To challenge a Primarch is to die."

Yet Delta muttered, "I think he has a point."

Epsilon blinked at that and exclaimed, "You can't be serious!"

But Delta retorted, "Don't forget what he's done already, how willing he is to kill his own followers. Omegon won't hesitate to execute any one of us at a whim. Don't be fooled by his charisma, we are all expendable to him."

Epsilon looked like he was to protest but then his head lowered and he whispered, "You're right, he's worse than Beta was. One mistake and it will our heads rolling upon the floor, so long as the rules we are not safe."

"So we return to the question, what do we do?" Talgor muttered.

Delta mused, "We can't expect to live long under his rule, but we can't flee without him noticing nor fight him, not openly at least. We must bide our time and look for an opening, any chance to break out."

Epsilon glanced to the corner and said, "Before we get ahead of ourselves, how can we know this conversation won't be reported?"

Talgor glared back and snapped, "If we can't trust each other then we are dead already."

"Agreed," Delta declared, "If word of one of us plotting against him gets out then we will all die. Our only chance of survival is to work together."

"Mutually assured destruction," Epsilon muttered, "We each have too much dirt on each other to risk betraying this confidence."

Suddenly there was an unexpected knock at the door and all three of them started in surprise. Delta felt accusing glances from his co-conspirators but ignored them as he strode to the door. He opened it only to find a cowering mutant crouched outside, swaddled in a thick robe. The filthy creature threw up its hands and cried, "Don't kill me, I bring a message!"

Delta glared down at the snivelling wretch and growled, "Out with it."

The mutant jabbered, "The Lord Omegon, summons you to the Strategium."

Delta glanced back at his companions but they looked baffled. Delta jerked his head and they set off, his comrades trailing behind. It was a long walk to the Strategium which gave Delta time to think. He could not help but wonder if Omegon knew that they were scheming, but told himself that was impossible, no one could learn of a plot so quickly, especially as they hadn't even come up with a plan yet. But if he had then their lives would end swiftly.

Delta could only fret as they walked, turning over one doom after another as they approached the chamber. The trio marched into the dark room and found the gloomy interior had been changed. Smoking braziers were set up around the space and chanting mutants stood in ritualistic positions. Strange marks had been engraved into the floor, that writhed as if alive and before the throne was a rude altar, with a naked man bound to its cold stone. Delta was taken aback by the Sorcerous atmosphere but then he spied Omegon and all that became insignificant.

The Primarch was standing over the altar, waiting with his spear in hand as he supervised the ritual. His presence dominated the room, drawing all eyes to him as a black hole does light. His eyes were chips of green jewels, hard, cold and unsympathetic and there was a cruel twist to his lip. Merely to look upon him was to know one's inferiority and Delta struggled to remember what they had been talking about only minutes before.

Omegon waved them over and said, "Finally."

All three bowed low to him and Delta said, "My Lord, how may we serve you?"

Omegon looked imperiously and then said, "The deserter has proved elusive. Beta has evaded all our patrols and search parties. Thus we must resort to more extreme measures."

Delta eyed the ritual nervously and said, "We shall employ sorcery?"

"I will use whatever means necessary to ensure Beta dies," Omegon declared, "Or rather you will."

Delta blinked as he uttered, "I don't follow."

Omegon picked up a crude flint knife from the slab and presented it hilt first saying, "You were closest to Beta, your hand will complete this rite."

Delta instantly knew he was being tested. He didn't know what Omegon suspected, nor what this ritual was supposed to do, but he knew to refuse would be to die. He had to prove he had no ties to Beta, or the Primarch would kill him instantly. Delta grabbed the knife then reversed his grip and plunged it into the mortal's chest , without even bothering to look at him. The man gasped as his lifeblood ran freely, pouring over the sides of the altar in a torrent. Simultaneously the chanting mutants threw up their arms and cried out arcane syllables, calling out to the Warp. Delta stepped back as the blood began to smoke, releasing black vapours that curled and twisted in the air. The smoke did not disperse but began to congeal, forming together into clouds of dark mist.

Epsilon sounded concerned as he said, "What is this?"

Omegon was grinning now as he uttered, "Beta is wrapped in a long history of betrayals. Such deeds echo in the warp and the souls of his victims hunger for revenge. He should have been more cunning with his scheming, too many seek to drag him down to hell with them."

Delta saw the clouds beginning to make shapes, the familiar curves of Ceramite pauldrons and Astartes helms emerging from wisps of steam. Shadowy boltguns were hefted in immaterial hands and unreal swords were drawn from sheaths of mist. Yet they glimmered with the hint of Warp energies, a burning corona of ethereal power that proclaimed deadly power was contained within.

Delta inched closer to his lord and said, "Who were these warriors?"

"Everybody Beta has crossed," Omegon announced gleefully, "All those souls who cannot rest easily, knowing that he yet lives."

Warily Talgor muttered, "We rely upon ghosts now?"

Omegon replied, "Beta may not know fear, but I shall teach it to him. There is nowhere he can run where these ghosts cannot find him, nowhere he can hide from their vengeance. The time has come, go forth and take your revenge!"

With that the misty ghosts billowed and swept out of the chamber, flying away into the distance with astonishing speed. Delta watched them go and was shocked at the power on display, the eldritch lore Omegon commanded and he was left to wonder if their plot against him was such a good idea after all.


	16. Chapter 16

**Falsa Verum Chapter 16**

Beta ground his teeth together as he waited, filling his helm with a scratching noise. The vat-grown implants were proof against impact damage and the acid-saliva of a Space Marine but this was testing their limits. Yet he did not relent, for his impatience was growing ever fiercer. Before him the mutant empath was kneeling to examine a gang-tag upon a wall, a random assortment of lines and curves that meant nothing to Beta. The Sorcerer had been forced to call upon his guides to interpret the sigil, yet he was growing frustrated with their lack of swiftness.

Ever since he had talked to Harbinger he had been filled with a terrible dread, the sensation that events were moving faster than he could control. Talking to a Daemon was a perilous endeavour, every word laced with double meanings and portents of doom. Following their advice was a fool's errand, for they were falsehood made manifest, yet to ignore them entirely could well lead one into a trap. Most mortals didn't have the will and the intellect to parse information from their tongue-twisting riddles, the paradoxes driving them to madness or enslavement as they tried to grasp the subtleties. Even Beta, a veteran sorcerer, couldn't be certain he grasped all the nuances of the Daemon's words but he was certain that time was running out.

Behind him Refus and Lynia watched the passageway, looking out for any pursuers. Of course Beta would hear any stalkers before they could hope to see them, but it kept them occupied. They were passing dried mushrooms between them, which seemed to be a staple of their diet but Refus was moaning that he craved a taste of human meat, naturally everyone ignored him. The brutish one, Alk, was staring vaguely off into space, lost in whatever day-dream occupied his thoughts. Beta normally had no interest in mutants at all, they were weak things and did not factor into his plans, yet these ones had proved surprisingly stalwart.

Beta had kept a close eye upon them, in case Harbinger had woven snares into their souls, but so far he had seen no sign that they had been corrupted. Either the Daemon didn't think they were worth bothering with or their hard lives had inured them to such convoluted thinking. This was an interesting fact; one Beta decided to find some use for at a later date.

Finally Zeck straightened up and dusted off his hands saying, "This territory is claimed by a gang, it's not one I know but their marks are fresh. If we carry on this way we'll be violating their turf, which invites attack."

Lynia looked back and called out, "Can we go around?"

Zeck shrugged, "The Dead Zone is right ahead, we could look for another route but it will take hours."

Beta spoke up then to declare, "We don't have time, we will have to risk it."

Lynia frowned as she commented, "That's asking for trouble."

"No choice," Beta countered, "We don't have time to wait."

Refus' eyes narrowed as he spat, "Then you go ahead, we're fine biding our time."

"No," Beta growled, "We move on."

Then Zeck snapped, "We're going on, Refus if you want you can stay here… all alone."

That brought the argument to a swift end; no mutant would ever dare to travel alone. Beta had heard their tales of the fates that awaited those who were isolated or weak, life in the bowels of the Shadow was not soft nor forgiving. Reluctantly the Mutants set out, moving along the dark passageways with Beta in tow. The Sorcerer reckoned that they had journeyed across half the length of the Shadow, their progress slowed by the intricate mechanisms and convoluted routes they had to take to avoid detection.

The mutants advanced warily, alert for rival gangs but Beta heard nothing and their progress was smooth. Yet soon they ran into a sealed hatch, one with a large lock-wheel on the door. Zeck set his shoulder to it and strained with all his strength but was surprised when it wouldn't budge. Beta glanced at the coating of grime around the seals and instantly deduced that the door hadn't been opened in centuries, perhaps millennia. Casually he reached over the mutant's shoulder and gripped the wheel one-handed, then turned it with a screech of metal on metal.

Everybody glanced about fretfully, thinking the noise would give them away but Beta merely ducked into the hatch. He emerged onto a gantry ringing around a large space, long and wide with a vaulted roof. It resembled a cathedral in many ways, with vestibules and murals running as far as the eye could see. Yet instead of religious icons there were pallets of tools and lifting equipment, munition trains and fuel bowsers. Cranes and gantries hung from overhead while fifty metres tall scaffolds were fitted into alcoves in the walls. An aura of antiquity hung over the area and mounds of dust piled over everything. Thankfully Plasteel and Ceramite were non-oxidising materials, they could not rust, but the sheer age of the chamber took the breath away.

The mutants stared about in wonder and Refus gasped, "What is this?"

Beta found a stairwell and slowly walked down it as he explained, "It is a Titan bay."

"A what?" Zeck asked as he followed, head darting about in wonder.

"Ancient war machines," Beta explained as he reached the floor, "This ship was once the centre of the XIXth Legion and here is where they would muster their mightiest weapons. However my Splinter lacks the means to support such devices, even Vorshaan couldn't muster such forces. This place has probably been undisturbed in ten millennia."

Refus shook his head and muttered, "Your words make no sense."

Yet Beta's eyes were upon Zeck who had unexpectedly frozen, his antenna quivering in fear as he gasped, "Something is coming!"

A heartbeat later Beta's Sorcerous senses detected it too, the rancid tang of Warp energy. He felt a cold shiver run down his back as he realised some form of spellcraft was at work, a casting of terrible potency and deadly intent. He did not know the particulars but the sorcery was mighty and he knew for certain that no one on board capable of such a feat was on his side.

"Find cover!" Beta yelled as he dove behind a discarded tool pallet. The mutants followed his command, diving under fuel bowsers and workbenches, their reflexes honed by a lifetime of danger. Meanwhile Beta's eyes rose to the ceiling and he beheld a strange apparition. Flowing through the raw metal of the ceiling were a collection of ethereal spectres, shimmering apparitions of light and shadow. They were translucent, like a cloud of mist before the end blows it apart but their forms described the unmistakable sight of ceramite pauldrons and Astartes helms and they trailed wisps of steam behind them, leaving contrails in the air as they fell towards the floor.

Beta's jaw fell as he beheld the ghosts, his mind stretched to breaking by the sight. It was not the sorcery involved, for he had seen and done far mightier things, neither was it the implications of the caster's skill. No, what was stunning him was the fact that he recognised these ghosts, the faint markings upon them were familiar to him, emblems he had not seen in millennia. As the spectres touched the floor and Beta breathed, "The Unbroken Chain splinter…"

At that moment the mutant Alk rose from his cover and stared at the ghosts as he murmured, "Pretty…" Instantly the ghosts reacted, spinning on their heels and raising ethereal bolters. There was the echo of a bang and then flaming balls of witch-fire blazed forth, catching the mutant in a cross-fire. Mundane flesh met Warp-energy and was annihilated by it, eviscerated by the ravening energies as effectively as if hit by a bolt-round. Alk screamed as the molecules of his matter parted, blown apart by flaming energy and vicious craters were torn into his body. Then a ball struck him on the forehead and blew his skull apart, showering brains everywhere.

"Alk!" Lynia screamed in denial but Beta was already moving, hurling himself out of cover and diving among the scaffolding of an empty Titan bay. Moments later more balls of energy impacted the metalwork around him, blasting shrapnel everywhere but they were hampered by the narrow confines and none struck him. A lone las-pistol shot rang froth but passed harmlessly through a ghost, leaving no impression upon it whatsoever. These spectres were made of warp-energy and nothing born of realspace could harm them. Beta felt rather than heard the ghosts closing on his tail and redoubled his efforts to evade but then to his absolute horror he heard tinny voices calling out to him.

"Beta," they called, "Beta come out and face your old friends." Beta was rocked to the core as he recognised the voices calling to him, names floating up in his mind that he had not thought of in millennia. With a lurch he realised that these were no mere projections, they were the souls of the dead summoned forth and given free rein to roam… and claim vengeance.

Desperately Beta dashed out of cover and ran for an empty munitions train. Blazing balls of fire chased him and one clipped his leg, blowing a crater into the ceramite of his thigh. He stumbled as the voices called out, "Afraid to face us Beta?"

Clumsily Beta dove into cover and without meaning to he cried, "No, you're dead!"

The voices came back, "You made sure of that, didn't you Beta?"

Beta cursed himself for engaging with the ghosts yet he seemed unable to stop himself as he shouted, "It had to be done!"

The voices sneered, "Don't lie to us. You didn't have to do anything you chose to betray us, you chose to send us to die!"

"I didn't want to, I had to," Beta pleaded, "It was the Primarch's they were destroying the Legion, they had to go. Your deaths were the first step along that road, the first domino that had to fall!"

"Lies!" the voices called, "You wanted more power than they would let you have, you had tasted Chaos and you craved more. But the Primarchs stood in your way, so you disposed of them, like you did us!"

Beta's mind was reeling from the accusations but he gasped, "No, no it wasn't me. I didn't kill you."

"No," the voices snarled, "You don't kill many yourself, you prefer to let others do your dirty work for you. You manoeuvre others into positions to die then sit back and watch. You sent us to that misbegotten hell-pit and abandoned us there."

"No," Beta implored, "It wasn't like that! You were my Brothers; it nearly broke me to see your doom fall."

Suddenly there was a blur of movement on his flank and Beta saw a ghost appearing, stepping straight through his cover like it wasn't there. He reacted instinctively, raising his staff and letting loose a blast of lightning. The arcing energies caught the ghost and ripped into it, tearing its ethereal form apart. Warp-energy met Warp-energy and they cancelled each other out, dissipating the ghost as if it had never existed. One second there was a ghost, looming over him with bolter trained, the next there were nothing but empty space. Beta saw the apparition dissolve and gasped as he realised he had the means to destroy them in his grasp. Yet he knew he was still outnumbered, he could not take down nine more before they slew him. Beta knew he had only one option left and he gripped his staff in both hands and began to chant.

Warp-energy built within him and he felt the power surging through his body. He channelled it all into his staff, building up a crescendo of raw power as the sorcerous totem began to quiver and glow. The metal of its haft began to steam while the three-headed snake shone like a captured star and Beta felt his hands burning where it touched it. A moment later the ghosts poured over his cover, bringing their bolters to bear, but at that instant he slammed the staff down onto the deck and let loose the power.

The reaction was instantaneous, the staff exploded in his hands, spraying razor-slivers of metal everywhere and as it did so the power flowed outwards in all directions, washing over the ghosts simultaneously. Raw power swept over the scene and in an instant the ghosts were blasted apart, dissolved into nothingness by the same energies that had made them. Ethereal plates evaporated before his eyes and the bolters dissipated but still as the voices called, "You can't escape us… we shall wait for you… beyond death."

Yet Beta had other concerns, the blast had thrown him backwards and he struck the train behind him with bone-breaking force. His plates were smoking and blood flowed from his hands as he slumped to the ground. Then the weight of unconsciousness dragged him down into the blackness of oblivion, where mocking laughter awaited him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Falsa Verum Chapter 17**

Beta's weight was remarkable, bearing down upon them like a fallen girder. Zeck was bracing the Master under his left arm while Refus was to the right side, ceramite arms draping over their shoulders. It was difficult to walk but they had no other choice, it was move or die. Still Zeck could not ignore the pain in his lower back or the wobble in his knees as he forced himself onwards, moving ever deeper into the Hull.

Ahead of them Lynia was looking out for more dangers. They had been forced to rotate helping Beta walk, partly out of a need to keep a look-out and partly because none of them could bear his weight for long. Zeck still didn't understand what they had faced, shimmering half-real wisps that passed through walls and wielded powers like none he had ever seen. The ghosts had swarmed over them and nothing he could do had hampered them in the slightest. Alk's execution had been a perfunctory deed, like he was an irritant to be brushed off. But as soon as Beta had exposed himself he had been the sole focus of their attention, the mutants being less than nothing to the ghostly opponents. That fact alone had saved the rest of them, they simply hadn't been worth killing.

It was galling to be dismissed so but also a relief. Zeck was coming to understand that he was caught in a war between forces beyond his comprehension and there was nothing he could do about it. Beta however had possessed the means to defeat them, arcane blasts of power washing away the spectres in an inferno of might. It had cost him, his armour was scorched bare and his hands looked burnt where his detonating staff had seared right through his plate. Zeck didn't understand how he was still alive but the Master was tough and had still been able to move, with some assistance. He hadn't said a word in hours though, reduced to nothing more than placing one plodding foot in front of the other.

Suddenly the dark corridor they were traversing opened up into a wide chamber, with a high roof and a flat floor. Before them was a low bunker, with thick walls and firing slits positioned strategically around the circular structure. Zeck recognised this place as an abandoned security post, a fortification to hold against attackers trying to move through the Hull. A few mutant tribes boasted such defences, and they held them fiercely against all rivals. Beyond it was a wide door, with strange markings upon it. A warning in gang-tag told him this was the entrance to the Dead Zone, an area most Twists avoided.

Zeck's knees were going numb and he hastily spluttered, "Quickly… set him down." Together the pair of them wobbled over to the pillbox and dumped Beta beside it, the battered Master leaning back against it with his head slumped. Zeck's back ached fiercely and he straightened up as he twisted to and fro, trying to ease the pain. Refus was rubbing his third hand over his shoulders and he moaned, "By the Four, he's heavy."

Zeck craned his neck to and fro, feeling his muscles protesting as he tried to work out the Knicks in his shoulders. After a moment he agreed, "I don't think we can carry him much further."

He heard boots approaching and saw Lynia closing, the one-eyed mutant looking resentful as she hissed, "Maybe we shouldn't."

Zeck glanced at Beta but he seemed incoherent still he took a few paces away and whispered, "We've come this far, we can't stop now."

Lynia scowled as she spat, "We've come far enough, leave him here. Let's head back."

Zeck however argued, "We can't, not now."

Lynia sneered, "Weren't you the one who wanted to get rid of him? Don't tell me you've gone soft."

Irritation flared in Zeck as he spat, "How can you say that after what his kind did to my mother? No, I mean it practically. We can't afford to leave him, we've gone too far, we'd never make it back without him."

Yet Lynia pointed out, "We're not going to last if we keep going like this. You saw the kind of trouble he attracts, we can't fight that. Even your laspistol didn't do a thing."

Yet Zeck argued, "Do you think those things will stop hunting us if we split up? No, we know where Beta is going, anyone we meet would skin us alive for that information. If we leave him we're dead twists walking. I hate him as much as you, but I know the only way out is forward."

"And what about Alk?!" Lynia spat angrily, "He's dead because of Beta! He didn't deserve that, he didn't understand the risks but he trusted us to look out for him and we got him killed!"

Zeck retorted, "You think I'm not angry?! Of course I am, Alk was my friend and he died for nothing! But if we don't want to end up like him then we have to press on."

At that point Refus interrupted to say, "Does that mean… that I'm next?"

Zeck blinked in surprise and said, "What?"

Refus swallowed nervously and said, "Alk died, just like that Daemon thingy said he would, his brains blown all over the place. It said I would be next, it said I would freeze to death…"

Zeck was given pause by that and admitted, "I… I don't know."

"Oh crap," Refus whimpered, "It's true, isn't it? I'm going to die…"

Yet Lynia interjected, "No, you're not. We won't let it happen; you're not going to die."

Refus looked scared as he pleaded, "But it's destined to happen."

"Screw destiny," Lynia snapped, "We're still alive and we choose our own fate."

Refus shook his head and moaned, "But the Daemon said…"

Suddenly a deep and sonorous voice proclaimed, "Heed not the words of Daemons, their every word is a trap for the unwary. They are inveterate liars and deceivers."

It was Beta and he was sitting upright, staring right at them. Zeck wondered how much he had heard and muttered, "Takes one to know one."

Beta however ignored him and said, "Harbinger is playing you, by even thinking about it you are dancing to its tune. Forget its words and act as if you heard nothing, it's the only way to survive."

Refus looked confused as he stated, "But you said it could see the future."

Beta shook his head and replied, "Daemons see much, but not everything, fate and destiny are complicated. Nothing can predict every moment of the future; nobody can foresee every choice you will make. Sooner or later will come a moment they have not foreseen and in that instant everything rests in your hands. But you can never know when that moment will come, so you must act as if every choice is your own, else you will become Harbinger's puppet."

Zeck barely followed that but Refus seemed reassured. He waved the others away to guard the perimeter then crept closer to Beta and asked, "What were those things that attacked us?"

Beta's helm hid much but Zeck antenna's told him of a reluctance to answer in the Master, yet he confessed, "Shades of past sins."

Zeck looked at him and spat, "You knew they would come."

Beta however replied, "No… I did not."

That was the truth, Zeck could taste it, so he inquired, "Why were they after you?"

Beta admitted, "In a life as long as mine one makes enemies, terrible foes who will wait beyond death. Someone thought to speed up the process, to summon them for revenge."

Zeck pressed, "Did you deserve it?"

Beta was quiet for a moment then whispered, "I have had to make many choices and many sacrifices. Were mistakes made… oh yes… of course there were. I have had my failures and my successes and sometimes the cost was so high it was hard to tell which was which. But it was for the Legion, it was all for the Legion."

Zeck sensed lingering shades of guilt and sorrow and remarked, "I couldn't touch them."

"No," Beta confirmed, "Not with the crude weapons you currently have, but you could take up better ones. You have the potential within you, meagre and unimpressive but it's there. You have the potential to be so much more."

"What are you saying?" Zeck gasped.

"I could teach you to wield power unlike any you have known," Beta offered, "You could become mighty."

Zeck was stunned by the offer; the thought of wielding powers like the those he had seen Beta unleash was incredible. For a second he thought of himself as a mighty master, striding through the Hull with power unlike any he had ever known. He could break any tribe, he could rule the Hull, making all bow before him. His head swam with the idea, but then he remembered what happened when the mighty came down into the Hull, the piles of dead they left in their wake. He remembered Alk and Munny and his own mother, all cut down by forces beyond their control. Did he really want his whole tribe to end up like that?

"No," Zeck breathed, "No, I don't want it."

Beta sounded surprised as he remarked, "No? I do believe that's the first time anyone has said such a thing to me. You should reconsider, there are dangers awaiting you, things that will exploit the merest spark of power. You are a candle in the dark and that attracts attention and you have no idea how to defend yourself."

"Oh I know," Zeck said, "Getting rid of you seems the best way to remove the danger. All I want is for your kind to be as far from my tribe as you can get."

Beta stared at him a long moment then said, "I suppose it doesn't matter, the ghosts are gone now and we have places to be."

Slowly Beta rose to his feet and limped over to the high door, his previous weakness seemingly gone. The twists followed in his wake as he moved to a smaller door inset into the metalwork. Lynia and Refus looked confused but Zeck merely shrugged in bafflement to show he had no idea what the Master was doing. Beta paused then and ran his hands over the metal muttering, "This would be easier if I still had my staff."

Zeck didn't know what he was doing but after a moment the door swung open, revealing total darkness beyond. Beta led them through into another large space and pulled a lumen from his belt to push back the darkness. Zeck and the others followed him but barely had they stepped within when the strangest thing happened. His foot fell down but failed to reach the floor, missing it entirely as he drifted upwards. Zeck had never experienced the like, his weight was completely gone and he was floating upwards, unable to adjust his course or speed. He glanced about and saw Refus and Lynia doing the same, the twist's purple hair ballooning around her head as she flapped her arms uselessly.

"What's going on?!" Refus yelped as he began to turn upside down.

Yet Beta replied smoothly, "Gravity is off-line, as is life-support. This compartment is totally unpowered. Worry not, I have mag-boots, here take this line."

With that he pulled a tight wire from his belt and passed it upwards. Zeck gripped the line but noted his breath was rasping. Beta noticed their distress and explained, "Temperature is minimal and oxygen levels are low, keeping moving, without air currents carbon dioxide will build up around your bodies."

Zeck didn't understand that, all he could do was hang on as the Master began to walk, dragging the twists behind him in mid-air. Confidently Beta marched into the cloying darkness, lighting the way with a thin beam of light from his orb. Yet barely had they taken three steps when there was a loud clang behind them. Beta spun about and Zeck craned to see what was going on but he was horrified to behold what was behind.

The door they had come through had been slammed shut, sealing them within and before that door was a pair of glowing spectres, two more ghosts akin to those they had faced before. These two looked taller and more ornately decorated, yet they were still translucent and shimmering with wan light. In their hands were long weapons, that glimmered with lethal energies.

"Master Korswan?!" Beta spluttered in shock, "Habreal Gorsch?!"

The pair of ghosts stood perfectly still, yet one of them uttered, "Surprised to see us Beta?"

The other one added, "You didn't think it would be over that easily, did you?"

Then the pair leapt forward, swirling into the attack as the ghostly weapons in their hands erupted with ethereal fire.


	18. Chapter 18

**Falsa Verum Chapter 18**

The ghosts came at him with their weapons trailing ethereal blue flames. They were swift and precise, striking straight for his hearts but Beta was no longer there. In the heartbeat it took them to cross the space Beta disengaged his mag-boots and leapt straight upwards. Without gravity to hold him back he moved at incredible speed and the pair of ghosts sped under him without making a mark.

Beta soared towards the roof for a moment but then was yanked back as something jerked at him. The Sorcerer snarled as he realised it was the mutants, still clinging to the wire attached to his belt. They had been pulled along by his rapid manoeuvre, trailing behind like balloons on a string. They shouted in panicked wails of distress but Beta shut out their pleas. He had no time to mollycoddle the weak. In the corner of his eye he saw the ghosts coming about, turning to engage their prey. Beta's hand blurred as he chopped at the wire, severing it in one blow. The mutants wailed as they were set adrift but Beta left them behind as he flew free.

His momentum had resulted in a spin and he was coming at the roof at an angle but his hand flashed out and hit the metal, then pushed hard, throwing him away again. Beta angled towards a maintenance hatch, one that should have given workers access to the roof. Thankfully it was open and Beta wasted not a second to grab the lintel and pull himself through. The Ghosts followed him and Beta heard the words ringing, "You can't escape us Beta!"

He ignored it, pulling himself weightlessly along the narrow corridor with great heaves of his arms. The ghosts pursued him but in this environment he was the faster. All Astartes were trained to operate in vacuum and zero-gee environments, they were as deadly in the void as they were on the ground. Strange that many seemed to forget that they were called Space Marines for a reason. Beta was pulling ahead but then he saw the maintenance tube split into two ahead of him. He reacted on instinct and went left, pulling himself down the narrow passageway. Behind him he heard voices calling, "Split up he can't get away!" Under his helm Beta grinned, these spectral apparitions didn't need to talk, they were Warp conjurations, but they fought like living things. They were bound by the idea that they were still alive, limited to acting as they had in life. That was a fact that worked in Beta's favour.

The Sorcerer hastened his pace, almost flying down the narrow passageway. Then he spied another maintenance hatch and instantly shoved himself through it. Beyond it he found a lengthy hall, filled with low tables and long benches. At one end was a window, through which could be seen an abandoned workspace, filled with stoves and cooking utensils. This was a mess hall, one of thousands set aside for junior officers, when the Shadow had still been an Imperial ship.

Beta knew he had mere moments to prepare and pushed himself towards the wall where a dull handrail ran around the room. Beta gripped the rod in both hands and mag-locked his boots to the ground then heaved it free. The bar ripped away from the wall, leaving him with a length of metal in his hands. It was a dull and unimpressive weapon but all Beta needed was a focal point for his power, warp-energies cared not how sharp a sword was. He hastily forged a sheath of psychic power around the metal, even as he hastened into the kitchen area of the mess.

A moment later a ghost emerged from the hatch in the roof, glowing faintly as its form settled down. Beta had a glance of the spectre's armour, it was unusually distinctive for an Alpha Legionnaire, painted with a single serpent that wrapped itself around the left shin and wound its way up his leg, over his hip and chest before ending upon his right pauldron. In his hands were two recurve blades, held downwards like a Tyranid's rending claws. Beta instantly recognised this one, Habreal Gorsch, lauded blademaster of the Legion. Beta had inveigled himself to his service following the Heresy and risen high, before betraying him to serve under the Harrowmaster. Beta remembered Habreal as a superlative warrior but one with an ego, his insistence of a unique identity running counter to the Legion's teachings. Yet he had not lacked for cunning, Beta had learned much from him, before he had betrayed him. Habreal circled the mess room as his voice called out, "Beta, I know you're here, come out and face me."

Beta kept quiet as he waited for Habreal to close, the ghost could have sensed him with ease but it was limited by its own perceptions of itself, it thought it needed to see him. Beta waited until he thought the ghost was close enough then rose from his cover and swung his rod at where he thought the ghost would be. Yet to his complete surprise he hit nothing. A moment later a spectral recurved blade slashed across his forearm, splitting ceramite and spilling blood as it nearly took his whole hand off. Beta snarled as he threw himself backwards and Habreal's ghost emerged into view calling, "Predictable as ever Beta, you have learnt nothing."

Beta hastily backed into the mess as the ghost followed and he snarled, "I outwitted you once."

Habreal's helmed head could not hide his amusement as he retorted, "Yes you did. Faking the intel to lure me into attacking the VIth Legion was a stroke of brilliance, that supposedly isolated band turned out to be a full Great Company. I never stood a chance and my head ended up stuffed and mounted over a hearth in the Fang. I should congratulate you… but I'm still going to kill you."

Beta raised his length of metal threateningly and said, "Come on then."

With that he charged at the ghost, his mag-locked boots ringing on the deck. He swung his weapon one-handed but Habreal dodged the blow with ease. In return the recurve blades lashed out, parting Beta's breastplate and letting rich blood flow. Beta felt the line of fire sear across his chest but pushed the pain to the back of his mind as he swung wide. Yet the ghost ducked adroitly and lashed across his thigh. On and on the duel raged, Beta's wild swings making no impression while Habreal cut and cut and cut, taking Beta apart one slice at a time.

Bleeding from a score of wounds Beta was forced to backpedal, trying to fend off his late lord. He cursed himself for engaging in hand-to-hand combat, Habreal had been a blademaster, one of the finest proponents of melee combat, whereas Beta had always leaned towards etheric lore, favouring Sorcery over brute force. Beta realised he wasn't going to win this with a weapon; he needed to employ his Sorcerous skills.

Beta blocked a disembowelling stroke and to buy time he called out, "You were always a trusting fool!"

"Yes," Habreal agreed, "But then we were supposed to be Legion Brothers, our bond should have been inviolate."

Beta retorted, "The Legion is greater than any one warrior or leader!"

Habreal paused then and said, "Is that what you told yourself, that it was for the Legion? Self-deluded fool, you care for nobody save yourself. Admit it, you betrayed me to elevate your own position!"

Beta felt his powers growing in his mind and began shaping a spell. Meanwhile he stalled by saying, "You should have killed me with your first stroke."

Habreal sounded amused as he retorted, "But I wasn't trying to kill you, merely to lure you into position."

Beta had a moment to gasp in shock then a blaze of warp-lightning shot from the roof and wrapped him in chains of agony. His carefully constructed spell fell apart as he was thrown across the room, dropping his weapon as he crashed into the wall. He weightlessly bounced off it, but suddenly a sledgehammer of psychic force took him and slammed him into the wall. His body ached from its multitudes of wounds and he tasted blood in his mouth as he was crushed into the hard surface. His eyes came up and he beheld a second ghost entering through the roof. This one bearing a staff with a three-headed snake and a snarling cobra set over the forehead of the helm: Master Korswan.

The pair of Ghosts stood side-by-side as Habreal chortled, "I tell you we're splitting up and you believe it… I can't believe you fell for that."

Beta couldn't move, the ethereal weight of the spell grinding him into the wall like he was trapped under a pile driver. Yet he cursed himself for falling for so elementary a trick, Habreal had always been cunning. He placed his hands flat on the wall and summoned a trickle of power as he forced his head forward and spat, "You think you're clever but you are nothing but puppets."

Master Korswan shook his head and remarked, "Oh Beta… look how low you have sunk. Did you forget all my teachings?"

Beta stared at his former mentor, the Librarian who had taken him as an apprentice before the Legion even emerged into the light of the Great Crusade. Seeing him again was a knife in the heart but defensively he snapped, "You have no idea of things I have done."

Korswan sighed, "I thought you were my greatest pupil but look at you now. Broken and spent and corrupted by Chaos… I am disappointed."

"Chaos is my tool," Beta snarled, "I am the master!"

"None can master Chaos fool," Korswan spat, "He who treats with Daemons shall forever dance to their tune. You sold yourself into slavery and do not even realise it."

Beta felt an unfamiliar stab of shame at the accusation but he covered by snarling back, "You taught me the Legion was destined to become supreme among the stars, Chaos was the means to achieve that goal but the Primarchs were holding us back."

Korswan's power held Beta firmly but he stated icily, "I also taught you that we had to be careful not to become that which we fought. The XXth Legion always danced with the danger of corruption but we were sustained by our unity. You forsook that unity, you betrayed the Legion."

"I freed the Legion!" Beta yelled in outrage.

Yet Korswan spat, "You came to me during the fires of the Heresy, as a former pupil seeking advice, but when I turned my back you plunged a knife into it. You stole my precious spell books and my staff too! Now that was adding insult to injury."

"If I still had it you would be banished already," Beta growled.

"Careless of you to lose it," Korswan admonished him, "A cunning apprentice I could respect, but a sloppy one... you are nothing but a disappointment."

"Enough of this," Habreal interrupted as he paced forward, "Time to die."

Beta was still held firmly to the wall but he pushed his body an inch forward and proclaimed, "You two were always so righteous, so convinced of your pure purpose, but I knew better. You sought power as much as I did, you were no better than me!"

"Always ready with some snide remark, always so convinced of your own superiority" Habreal retorted as he closed, "But you always knew in your hearts that you were never better than us."

Beta looked at his former lord and uttered, "I am better in one way… I am not so limited in my choice of weapons."

The ghosts paused for an instant as they tried to discern his meaning but Beta was already acting. While they had been talking he had been channelling his power through his hands into the wall, building energies in the material of the room itself. Now he acted, ripping shards of metal from the walls to stab inwards. Jagged shards of metal tore free and plunged into the ghosts, transfixing them like a hail of arrows and Beta used the physical connection to flood power into them.

As he had with the rod the metal was merely a conduit for his power and he inundated the ghosts with overwhelming energy, blasting apart the spells that held them together. The ghosts unravelled before his eyes, evaporating into nothingness even as they screamed in denial. The spectres disappeared in a moment and the spells holding Beta down faded even as he heard Korswan cry, "You are a slave of Chaos!"

Then they were gone and Beta slumped as he drifted free of the wall. He knew he should be fleeing the scene, but all he could do was wrap his hands around his wounded chest and shudder. The pain of his injuries was intense but worse than that were the accusations of his former lords. All he could do was curl up and try to fight the chilling thought that they had been right about him all along.


	19. Chapter 19

**Falsa Verum Chapter 19**

Delta idly tossed his knife into the air, spinning it end over end before snatching it back. Sometimes he would let it spin four or five times before catching it, sometimes only one, but he always caught it by the hilt. He deftly alternated hands and speeds to make it interesting but found no challenge there so he closed his eyes and practiced throwing it blind. Unfortunately his transhuman spatial awareness and keen hearing made it just as easy for him to discern the location of the knife and his hand caught it yet again.

Delta sighed as he sheathed the knife and looked about. He was standing in an armour repair workshop, a simple space filled with benches and racks of tools. There were multitudes of such places throughout the Shadow, tiny motes of industry in the vastness of the ship. Here mutant labourers would labour to restore the armour and weapons of their Chaos Marine overlords, fearfully toiling to make good wounds and forge replacement parts. Every renegade had one or two such places they frequented when they needed work done, but other than that they largely ignored such mundane locales, which made it perfect for a meeting.

Standing by the door was Talgor, holding a bolter with a fanged Daemon maw wrought of brass framing the barrel. He was peering out of the doorway, looking for any sign of movement but otherwise was stock still. At the back of the workshop Epsilon was fussing over some device, a small fusion torch in one hand as he made fine adjustments to whatever it was he was working on. Epsilon was tech-savvy, having an affinity for machines and technical matters. Not that he was a techmarine, with all their obtuse regalia and ritualised dogma, no he was a specialist at subverting and overriding Machine Spirits, a useful skill for any infiltrator.

Between the three lay a pile of mutant corpses, all oozing fresh blood onto the deck. The presence of the workers had been inconvenient, they had expected the workshop to be empty but they had swiftly remedied that. The stench of bowels voiding in death would have been repugnant to most but Delta barely noticed it. He had killed so many people that he no longer noticed such things. It was annoying that they would have to dispose of the bodies but there was no other option, this meeting had to remain secret.

Delta drummed his digits upon his belt then spat, "Where are they?"

Epsilon didn't look up from his tinkering as he said, "What's the rush?"

Delta hissed back, "We risk much tarrying here, every minute we linger increases the chances of being detected."

Epsilon didn't sound concerned as he replied, "It's a risk we have to take, we can't do anything without allies."

Delta bit off a retort at that, for the truth was undeniable. The three of them alone could not hope to outwit Omegon, if even one-tenth of the stories of the insidious Primarch were true then any plan they could come up with would be detected in an instant. His genius and cunning were legendary and his skill with a blade was beyond anything an Astartes could boast. Additionally it seemed Omegon had acquired a comprehensive knowledge of Sorcery in his ten thousand year absence, powers that none of the trio could hope to understand.

Despair was not a notion that Astartes of any breed understood but Delta had been stumped as to how they would proceed. Talgor had a few loyal squads under his command but even that was a paltry force. Eventually they had determined that they did not have the necessary skills to make a move, thus the only course left was to reach out and recruit others. It was a risk, but they had no other options, still it had been agreed that they should take suitable precautions.

Delta changed the subject and inquired, "Did you find anything in the ship's Cogitators?"

Epsilon glanced up and said, "Only riddles and enigmas, Omegon covered his tracks well. Assuming he's been operating under the name Harrowmaster, then he's crossed the galaxy a hundred times over. He's a whisper and a rumour, sometimes he appears to be in two or three places at once, then disappearing for centuries."

Delta thought about it then said, "We should assume anything in the Shadow's Logic Engines is misinformation, planted to confuse prying eyes."

Epsilon sounded bemused as he asked, "What makes you think that?"

"It's what I would do," Delta answered.

Suddenly Talgor stiffened at the door and hissed, "Someone's coming!"

All eyes turned to the doorway and they assumed defensive positions as three more Chaos Marines ducked inside. Delta kept his guard up but he was glad to see it was their expected contacts. First in was tall renegade bearing a long sword, with bat wings on his helm and flayed skin stretched over his armour. That was Ekuro, a Night Lord by origin, he had served under the late Vorshaan, before betraying him to sign up with the Alpha Legion, he should have no love of Omegon.

Next in was Furoth, a turncoat from the Iron Warriors, with a huge double-handed hammer weapon. He was blunt and unsubtle, unlikely to be involved in any cunning plot. Last in was Gabraal, a renegade from the Angels Sanguine Chapter. His armour was splattered with gore and he had a huge chain-axe upon his shoulder. Gabraal was sinking into the blood-madness of Khorne, before long he would be another mindless berserker, but for now he was still able to hold a conversation.

Epsilon's hand twitched, a signal that he was blocking any recordings or transmissions, word of this meeting would not be taken elsewhere. Satisfied they were secure Delta eyed up their guests then declared, "Thank you for coming."

Ekuro didn't sound happy to be here as he spat, "You called us and we came."

Delta nodded as he said, "Yes there is much to discuss. About the recent changes and Omegon."

Furoth sneered, "Well that didn't take you snakes long, already planning a betrayal are we?"

Delta bit back a retort and slowly said, "You know who he is and what he has done. Look at our ranks; he's already started a cull. How long until all our heads are set on pikes?"

Furoth spat, "Failures get what they deserve, as long as we win we shall rise high."

"But for how long?" Delta argued, "What is his plan? What is his ultimate goal? Do you know, because we don't. We are fighting blind and that's a certain way to end up dead."

At that point Gabraal interrupted to growl, "The Gods care not where the blood comes from, so long as it flows."

Delta gritted his teeth; this was not going well and uttered, "Surely you can see that Omegon is a threat to us all."

Yet Ekuro sneered, "What I see is that you have buyer's regret. You sold out Beta for a better lord but don't like what you got. Do you miss your old leader? Do you want him back?"

Delta was incensed by that and snapped, "Beta was cunning once but leadership wore him down, he became paranoid and started making too many mistakes. Omegon's ghosts will kill him soon enough."

Furoth glanced to the side and he said, "Are you really standing with them Talgor?"

"Of course he is," Ekuro scoffed, "They are all of the same bloodline, the insipid weakness of the XIIIth Legion beats in their veins."

Suddenly Epsilon barked, "Don't mock us; we have committed as many atrocities against the crumbling Imperium as any of you! Now are you with us or against us?!"

"Challenge a Primarch," Ekuro jeered, "You must be mad!"

Delta sensed a sudden tension in the air and his hands drifted to his knives as he growled, "If you place your trust in Omegon, then your lives will be short and inglorious."

"Not if we can prove our usefulness to him," Gabraal growled, "We plan to start by bringing him the heads of three defectors!"

Suddenly the three of them were in motion, charging forth with weapons drawn. Furoth's hammer blazed with concussive energies as he swung it at Delta, yet he was not taken unawares. Even as they charged he threw himself backwards and Furoth's hammer whisked an inch before Delta's helm, charring the paintwork with arcing energies. Delta's hands blurred and his knives were in his grip, blazing with blue lightning as their internal power fields ignited. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ekuro leap at Epsilon and Gabraal charge at Talgor but he had no time to watch as Furoth swung a mighty roundhammer blow. Delta ducked and heard the hammer whoosh overhead then darted in and slashed his knives across the belly. Ceramite parted and a trickle of blood flowed but he skittered past without pause and dove head first over a wooden bench.

A moment later the hammer slammed into the table, shattering it to kindling, as Furoth roared, "Stand and fight like a Marine damn you!"

"Rutting idiot!" Delta snapped as he weaved away from a follow-up blow, "You grox-brains never could fight worth a damn without a trench to stand in, no wonder Dorn's whelps beat you so often. You smell of dirt and entitlement!"

Furoth roared in outrage and lowered his head to charge right at Delta but the Infiltrator spun to his right and let the former Iron Warrior barrel past. His knife flashed again and blood was running down Furoth's left flank but he was not slowed by it. Furoth bellowed like a bull and swung about, raising his hammer high for an overhead blow. Delta gripped his knives and prepared to dodge once more but right then Epsilon shouted, "Ware!"

Delta heard the cry and immediately shut down his autosenses. A heartbeat later there was an overwhelming flash of light and energy as the shock grenades the trio had secreted around the room detonated. Light and electro magnetic energies swept over the battling Chaos Marines, blinding autosenses and crippling enhanced hearing. The effects were dazzling but autosenses were quick to adjust, yet having already taken precautions Delta recovered a moment faster than Furoth and a second was all he needed.

Delta saw Furoth swing his hammer defensively, to ward off an attack in his moment of blindness but it was no match for the Infiltrator. Delta effortlessly oozed around the wild swing and bounded forward, stabbing both knives for the chest. The points met ceramite and parted it easily, one plunging into Furoth's primary heart, the other into his secondary. Furoth froze as his life was cut short, he swayed drunkenly for a moment and tried to bash down with the handle of his hammer but Delta was inside his swing and he could make no impression. In response Delta twisted his knives, ripping the hearts apart and at last Furoth keeled over backwards, hitting the floor with the ringing of Ceramite.

Delta breathed out as his foe fell and gripped his knives hard as his fury bubbled within him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ekuro collapse, his face a charred mess where a fusion torch had melted his skull. To the other side Gabraal was choking on the ground, a gladius rammed into his throat like a skewer. Talgor slowly placed one boot on the hilt and drove it in further as he growled, "If you must fight me make sure you kill me, because if I yet live then you are dead." Then Gabraal at last went still and died.

Delta sheathed his knives and spat, "That went… badly."

"Gods below," Epsilon muttered, "That was a crap-fest of epic proportions."

Talgor stepped over the cooling corpse of Gabraal and asked, "Do you think Omegon converted them?"

"No," Delta growled, "They were just out to impress him, if the Primarch knew about us there would be a hundred more waiting outside the door."

Epsilon pointed out, "We need to dispose of these bodies before anyone notices they're gone."

"In a moment," Delta muttered sullenly, "I'm thinking."

"About what?" Talgor asked.

"This is just a foretaste of what's to come," Delta thought out loud as a plan began to coalesce in his mind, "Everybody will be out for blood, knives will be in every shadow as everybody looks to outdo each other. We can't be sure of anyone's loyalty… but so too they can't be sure of ours. Everybody's mistrust is our cover."

"So?" Epsilon pressed.

Slowly Delta said, "Maybe these three had the right idea. We can't fight Omegon from the outside, we need to be in his inner circle. Standing by his side where we can learn what's really going on, we need to impress him."

"How do we do that?" Talgor asked.

"By giving him the one thing nobody else can," Delta explained, "Beta: we need to find Beta before anybody else does."


	20. Chapter 20

**Falsa Verum Chapter 20**

The door was stuck solid; Beta could see that at a glance. The rim was seared shut by millennia of grime and accumulated particles of filth. Trying to open it was pointless; he could spend days here and not budge it an inch. Behind him the three mutants drifted in mid-air, helpless to assist in this task. Beta had returned to them after he recovered his senses and found them awkwardly trying to negotiate the powerless compartment, struggling to adapt to zero-gravity. Harsh words had greeted him but Beta had not replied, merely catching them one by one and teetering them to his rent armour. Beta had then dragged them along, ignore their questions as he marched onwards.

Part of him had been weary from the battle but worse had been the wounds to his spirit. The ghosts had ripped into the walls of self-belief he had built around himself, exposing truths that he had not realised. For a Sorcerer that was a problem, self-belief was vital to any Psyker, surety of purpose and the willingness to sacrifice were essential to his craft. If he doubted himself then he was dead.

Beta heard a cough behind him and checked his autosenses, which told him oxygen levels were dropping sharply as the mutants consumed the stale air. He pondered for a moment leaving them to die but reluctantly determined that he still needed them. The last sprint to his cache might have unexpected complications. With no other options left Beta reluctantly drew upon his power, calling forth a trickle of Immaterial energy. The Warp came sluggishly, his bruised mind creaking with the effort after the strain of the last few fights. Yet he remembered his discipline and focused, forcing aside the ache in his soul with sheer will.

Set into the towering structure of the door, some twenty metres high, was a smaller hatch for personnel and it was here he focused his power. Under his guidance a scalpel of disruptive power ran around the rim of the door, displacing the clogging debris and leaving the hatch free. Beta gratefully ceased his effort and reached for the door handle, spinning the round wheel until the hatch swung open. He stepped through and felt the crushing embrace of gravity returning, making his armour squeal as the damaged fibre-bundle musculature adjusted to the sudden jolt. Wearily Beta turned and pulled the mutants through one by one, letting them fall to the ground in a jumbled heap.

The three mutants groaned and complained as they worked themselves back into some semblance of mobility but Beta ignored them, eyes fixed upon the surroundings. Slowly the three pushed themselves upright and blinked blearily then Refus yelped, "By the Four, what is this?!"

Before them stretched another twist village, a ramshackle collection of huts pressed up against the surface of the compartment door. It was a mirror to the home of their own mutant tribe, from the shanty lean-tos right down to the water-butts. Yet there was one important difference: everybody here was dead.

Bodies lay strewn about the village, cut down as they ran, but they had not been left where they had fallen. Corpses had been delicately arranged in patterns and swirls, making an artwork out of death. Bodies were nailed to walls and hanging from rods, others had their entrails pulled out and laid around them and the blood splatters told that they had still been alive when this happened. One mutant had even been hung up and had its eyelids removed, so that it could watch the suffering of its kin. Young and old, male and female, even the babes in arms had been massacred, none having been spared. This village was now a graveyard.

Refus shrank back in horror but Lynia pulled out a knife and Zeck drew his laspistol as he said, "What could do this?"

Lynia tried to keep the nerves out of her voice as she replied, "I don't know and I don't want to find out."

Beta's eyes travelled the scene and he finally responded by saying, "I know who did this."

"Who cares," Refus yelped, "We need to run."

But Beta snapped, "We can't run, it's too late: we're being hunted. Quickly, you can't fight him, find somewhere to hide… go!"

The three mutants didn't need telling twice, scampering off to leave the Sorcerer alone. Beta ignored them as he paced into the village, pausing only to pick up a discarded cleaver and run his hand over the metal. A shimmer of power coated the weapon, making it glow bluely and Beta focussed his thoughts. His pain and weariness he shoved into a mental box, he would deal with them later, now he needed total clarity and focus.

Beta made his way to the square heart of the village, ignoring piles of dead bodies. Yet he noted that they were still cooling, this massacre was fresh. He paused by what looked like an overturned market cart, left by one of those itinerant traders he had heard the mutants speak of. Finally Beta stopped and listened for any noise but he heard only silence, then he called, "Afraid to face me?"

From behind a slum building stepped a glowing figure in baroque power armour. He was tall and clad in midnight plate, etched with lightning bolts and screaming Daemonic faces. His helm had a pair of bat-wings on the sides and a grinning, fanged faceplate. In one hand he held a long chain-glaive that shimmered with ethereal fires and from his back arose a pair of wings, made of smoke and shadow.

Beta glared at the apparition and felt depthless loathing fill him as he hissed, "Vorshaan."

The ghost of the Dusk Prince cocked his head and remarked, "Beta… you don't seem pleased to see me."

Beta growled in contempt, "I knew you had to come but you are early, I wasn't expecting you so soon. This is your handiwork?"

Vorshaan inclined his head and said, "A bit of sport to pass the time."

"You always were a bloated egotist," Beta snapped.

Vorshaan sounded amused as he retorted, "I am proud of it, I always embraced my true nature. I didn't hide it under a cloak of nobility."

"I served the Alpha Legion," Beta growled defensively.

"Pah, don't lie to me," Vorshaan sneered, "You had your betrayal all planned out the day we met. Tell me a single thing you ever did that didn't benefit yourself."

Beta drew in an angry breath and then spat, "I'm going to tear you apart."

Vorshaan spun his chain-glaive and took it in both hands then said, "You never dared to test yourself against me, but I've been looking forward to this."

Beta was about to retort but suddenly Vorshaan was charging forward, sweeping into the fray with remarkable speed as his chain-glaive flashed. Beta however had been prepared for that, his sword was merely a distraction and while they had been talking he had been forming a spell in the back of his mind. As the Dusk Prince charged the Sorcerer spat a word in a language that had died before mankind crawled from the oceans of Terra, unleashing a focused spell.

The casting should have frozen Vorshaan in an instant, but the Dusk Prince was too quick. Even as the spell was cast his wings surged and he leapt upwards, passing over Beta's head in a graceful summersault. The spell required a narrow focus and Beta was shocked to see it miss its target, but he had greater concerns. As Vorshaan passed overhead his chain-glaive flashed and the tearing teeth ripped into the Sorcerer's helm in a screech of Adamantium upon Ceramite.

The etheric weapon tore the armour to shreds and in one blow it sheered off two horns and sundered the autosenses. Beta staggered as he was blinded and he felt a boot hit him in the backpack hard, sending him sprawling to the ground. Instinctively Beta rolled over and over, trying to avoid a follow-up blow but none came. Frantically he rose to his feet, grappling with his destroyed helm and ripped it free. Beta threw his ruined helm aside and looked up but was surprised to see Vorshaan standing some way away, watching his prey struggle. Beta remembered then that the Dusk Prince loved to toy with his victims, savouring their futile efforts, drawing out every last drop of pain and terror, but ultimately he never left any alive. Beta warily stepped to his right and snarled, "You can't beat me, you are only a memory."

"Maybe," Vorshaan chuckled, "Maybe not, perhaps I have allies of my own in the Warp."

"Lies!" Beta spat, "You always scorned the aid of Daemons…"

Before he could complete the sentence Vorshaan was in motion, leaping the distance between them at eye-watering speed. Even Beta, a Transhuman Astartes, barely had time to react as the chain-glaive tore at him. He awkwardly blocked a strike at his face but the pole-arm swung wide, arcing for his flank. Beta moved to parry but instantly the angle changed and the butt smashed into his hip. Beta stumbled and another strike tore across his belly, the roaring chain-teeth spilling his blood as Ceramite shards sprayed everywhere.

Frantically Beta fell back, parrying and defending as best he could. Yet the Dusk Prince's assault was startling, his speed and grace were superlative while his style was flawless and dazzling. He made battle an intricate dance, a performance of speed and grace that would awe any watching audience. Beta had always been begrudgingly impressed by Vorshaan's skills in combat, but he had never been on the receiving end and his own talents were no match for the Dusk Prince. He frantically fell back, totally defensive without a chance to strike back and a horrifying realisation crept over him that he couldn't beat Vorshaan blade to blade.

Without warning the chain-glaive went high, tearing across Beta's one remaining pauldron. Ceramite shattered and linking servos screamed as the armour was violated, ripped apart as the strike sent the plate spinning away. Desperately Beta opened his mouth and drew in a breath, readying another spell, but he was interrupted when the butt of the chain-glaive came out of nowhere and slammed into his larynx. Beta stumbled to the ground, coughing and spluttering as his spell fell apart and he rolled in the dirt as the Dusk Prince chuckled, "Now, now… none of that."

Beta tried to raise his weapon but a kick from a boot sent it spinning away as Vorshaan taunted, "What, nothing to say?" Beta could barely breathe, unable to do anything but cough as he backed away. He found the wall of a ramshackle lean-to and pulled himself up, back squarely to the surface as he glared at Vorshaan.

The Dusk Prince folded his wings and jauntily spun his chain-glaive end over end as he stalked closer. Then he placed the tip of his chain-glaive against Beta ragged breastplate and said, "I knew you didn't have it in you, you always preferred to let others do your fighting for you."

Beta felt his anger bubbling over at the sight of the gloating lord and he managed to cough, "I always… hated you."

"And I you," Vorshaan replied, "I should have killed you and your snakes on sight. Alpha, Beta, and Gamma too."

Beta heard the sneering contempt in Vorshaan's words and something snapped within him. A damn of self-control shattered in his mind, letting forth a torrent of blistering rage. His wrath overran his iron discipline and filled him with raw hatred and with it came a flood of primal warp power. Beta's body surged with crackling energies and he threw himself forward, without thought for self-preservation.

The Chain-glaive tore a bloody furrow over his pectoral but pain meant nothing to him as his hands slammed onto Vorshaan's helm and unleashed his untempered power. Blazing etheric energies tore through Beta, flooding out of his hands as his fury was set free. There was no subtly to this, no careful measurement of need and risk, this was unfettered rage given form. Never had Beta wielded such elemental might and the Warp thundered through him in a torrent. The ghost of Vorshaan was ripped apart by the tidal wave of wrath, his form exploding with blue fire, rent into fragments of burning ash. Vorshaan's ghost burned to nothing in Beta's grip, unmade by his frenzied assault and all the Dusk Prince could muster was a feeble, "How did you?!"

Then Vorshaan was gone, reduced to a mere wisp of smoke that faded into nothingness. Beta was left swaying on his feet, drunkenly staggering back as his power finally cut off. The Sorcerer was dazed by his own display of might, never before had he dreamed he commanded such elemental strength. Subtlety and control had ever been his hallmarks, siphoning power through totems and runes and he realised then that he had never truly pushed beyond the limits of his teaching.

Beta looked down at his smoking gauntlets and whispered in shock, "I didn't know I could do that."


	21. Chapter 21

**Falsa Verum Chapter 21**

His dreams were filled with the echoing traces of formless nightmares that he could not quite discern. Mocking laughter chased him as he fled down dark shafts of nothingness, the soft footsteps of predators hunting him wherever he went. Faces of dead enemies and lost friends loomed in his mind's eye then dissolved, forgotten as swiftly as they appeared, only to be replaced by fresh horrors. Yet there was one common face that kept coming back to him in that cycle, the bland face and depthless eyes of the Daemon, grinning at him as if enjoying his primal fear.

Zeck groaned loudly as he surfaced from his slumber, feeling absolutely wrung out as if he hadn't slept a wink. He languidly rolled over, separating from his companions who were dozing peacefully under a sheet and stretched his tired legs. A second later the freezing cold hit him, a blast of icy air that made him start in shock. Zeck's eyes snapped open as he violently shivered from head to toe, grasping at his own body. Zeck hurriedly jumped to his feet and began pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands together for warmth and he stamped his feet. His breath misted in front of his eyes as he walked but after a few minutes of pacing some vitality crept back into his limbs.

Feeling some semblance of life return Zeck took in his surroundings, seeing a sumptuous stateroom, or rather what was left of one. Zeck had never seen such a place but he could tell it had once been glorious. There was furniture in various states of decay, various small tables and a wide bed. In one corner there was a dead man-machine, like those that occasionally fell into the twist's hunting grounds and there was even a pot to piss in, luxury indeed. The walls were painted in depictions of a green floor that rolled and swelled in strange ways, while the roof was a faded shade of blue, dotted with fluffy white bits. Odd brown sticks with green clumps set on top of them were scattered about and a weird yellow ball sat high above, like a lumen orb. Across that landscape marched dark figures in armour eerily reminiscent of Beta's form, with tracked machines barrelling alongside that bore white creatures with spread wings. Zeck had never seen such an image before, so much open space made his guts clench with agoraphobia and the idea of looking up and not seeing a metal roof or a bulkhead made him shiver with dread.

Beta had called this place a diplomatic room for visiting dignitaries. The twists had no idea what that meant but they had thought it was as good a place as any to hole up for a rest. It was derelict and abandoned, clearly forgotten and ignored, as was so much else in the Hull, so they should be safe. It was only a problem that they were now skirting perilously close to the Freeze, that band of creeping death that ran the length of the Keel. It had been necessary though, after the fight in the village they had been forced to flee, leaving the massacre behind them as they sought to escape any following eyes.

Zeck still shuddered whenever he thought of the piles of dead, the casual brutality making his stomach clench. Life for twists was brutal and short but even he had been shocked by the level of sadism displayed, the insane enjoyment the perpetrator had taken in his deeds. The idea that such a monster might find his tribe, and do to the Place what they had done to that other tribe, was a horrifying notion and more than ever he was determined to be rid of Beta.

The thought of that made Zeck's eyes turn to a corner, where the Master was sprawled in a deep slumber. Beta claimed to have bested the monster but the fight had left him drained and deeply wounded, barely able to stagger along behind the twists. Zeck could sense the damage within him, the broken flesh and torn guts. His armour was hardly any better, hanging off him in shattered curls of Ceramite, rent and torn all over. Beta looked like he had been run over by a munitions truck, repeatedly, and then thrown from the top of twist's valley to bounce all the way down. Zeck was genuinely surprised that Beta hadn't dropped dead already but whatever had been done to turn him into a Master was proving to be stunningly tough. His body seemed almost unwilling to let go of life and it persisted in endlessly trying to repair itself, even past the point when death would be a mercy.

Zeck left Beta with his bald head tucked into his chin, turning his attention to his fellows. Zeck, Lynia and Refus had tried the bed but had found it intolerably soft, the cloying material drowning them in squashy fluff. Instead they had settled for throwing some sheets on the floor and huddling together for warmth, wrapping themselves against the cold. Zeck smiled when his antenna felt Lynia's steady heartbeat but then he frowned as he sensed nothing from Refus. Zeck started in horror and hurried over to Refus, seeing the twist was almost blue. He hurriedly knelt down and rolled Refus over, looking for any sign of life. His antenna shivered as he felt a faint heartbeat but it was thready and fading. The prophecy of the Daemon Harbinger flashed in Zeck's mind but he refused to accept that it could be true and he shook Refus yelling, "Wake up! C'mon don't do this to me, Refus wake up!"

Beside him Lynia stirred, opening her one eye and slurring, "Waassss?"

"Refus isn't moving!" Zeck snapped.

Lynia started awake and yelped, "What?!"

"Get help!" Zeck barked as he tried to rub some warmth back into Refus' arms.

Lynia reacted quickly, jolting to her feet and scampering over to Beta. She tried to shake the Master awake but he was too heavy to move, so she resorted to slapping him on the face shouting, "Wake up you useless lump! Refus is dying! I can't believe we've dragged you across half the Hull and now that we really need you you're no use!"

Zeck sensed no response from Beta and desperately looked for a solution, any solution. He spied a few mouldy rags on a table and dragged them down, forming a neat pile, then he drew forth his laspistol. The weapon had proved ineffective against the threats they faced but it had other uses than shooting things. He pulled out the power cell with shivering fingers and a piece of metallic twine from his pocket. Trader Vax had told him how to charge the cell but also that if properly treated it could be used as an emergency heat source. Zeck carefully wended the twine across the contacts and then threw the cell onto the pile of rags. A moment later the cell sparked profusely and began to grow red-hot, the power arcing in ways it was not meant to. In seconds the cell became scalding hot, a blazing coal in the room. Zeck felt the heat on his face and pushed Refus as close as he dared, almost on top of the cell. He held Refus there for a few minutes as the cold was driven back by the shorting cell and waited for a response.

Finally Refus stirred and his eyes opened as he muttered, "Wha?"

Zeck breathed out in relief and said, "Thought we'd lost you there."

"Eh?" Refus murmured.

"Nothing," Zeck said, "Just defying prophecy."

"What's zat?" Refus murmured drunkenly.

"Never mind," Zeck replied as he helped the twist sit up and hold his frigid hands over the glowing power cell, "You warm up all nice like."

At that point Lynia stalked over and said, "He's awake, the useless lump's asking for you."

Zeck sighed and pulled a sheet around himself as he stood up. Lynia took his place next to Refus, holding him upright near the power cell. Refus slumped against her and murmured, "I wanna go home."

"Me too," Lynia whispered, "The Place is looking mighty fine right now."

Zeck left the pair huddled together and stalked over to where Beta was slumped, arms laid out palm up on the floor with his legs sprawled out. Even sitting down the Master was on an eye-level with the twist and Zeck noted sourly that he didn't seem in the least bit troubled by the cold. Zeck sniffed as Beta looked up and inquired, "Did I miss something?"

"We almost lost Refus," Zeck growled, "I beat the Prophecy though."

Beta replied candidly, "Interpreting Prophecy is like gripping a serpent by the tail, it always bites back. We need to get moving."

Yet Zeck stated, "Refus isn't going anywhere and neither are you, you're all busted up."

"My body will repair itself," Beta stated, "A Space Marine is hard to put down but next to impossible to eliminate, anything that doesn't kill us instantly will be repaired in time."

Zeck's anger grew within him and he snapped, "You don't care about anybody but yourself! Refus, Munny, Alk, none of them meant anything to you!"

Beta drew in a breath and stated, "I don't have time to care, my body is repairing itself but my mind will take longer. I overtaxed my powers by pushing beyond my own limits. The cost is pain; I can't wield my abilities for some time. If we are caught right now I can't use my Sorcery."

Zeck hissed, "You only want to save your own skin. It's too much, we're not taking another step until you explain who wants you dead and what's in this cache that's going to stop them."

"You wouldn't understand," Beta muttered.

"Not one more step until I get the truth," Zeck declared, "I can tell if you're lying."

Beta looked at him with vexation but then said, "If you insist, but I'll try to keep this simple. I told you of the Legions, of the Space Marines and the Tyrant Emperor. He made us you see, he put things inside us to make us big and strong… gene-seed we call it."

"That's what's patching you up?" Zeck asked.

Beta replied distantly, "It was wondrous workmanship, I'll give him that much. We were elevated beyond anything mortal… but not all of us were made equal. The Primarchs, they were few in number, merely a handful in total but each was made to be the supreme embodiment of war. They were made to lead us and the Legions were made to follow them. It was glorious at first but we eventually outgrew them, they were holding us back and so I planned to eliminate Alpharius Omegon. It's amazing what a few well-placed leaks will do to a battle plan…"

"This new lord doesn't seem dead," Zeck commented.

Beta nodded and said, "I thought I killed him, I did kill him. He shouldn't be here; I know it in my bones."

"So what are you planning?" Zeck asked, "The truth mind you."

Beta replied, "I always knew that the gene-seed was the key. I tried to make a bio-weapon to destroy gene-seed, but it fell short of my aspirations. A shame, I had hoped to develop a weapon capable of killing a Primarch, but it was not to be. So instead I have been working to improve the gene-seed, to bring my kind closer to the Primarch's level. Many have tried, the Dark Founding, the Cursed Founding and more were their failures. I had no more success than they, all I got was failure after failure, but there was someone who did what I could not. A Martian Adept succeeded where all others have failed. He made new Space Marines, Primaris Marines… and I sensed an opportunity."

"What did you do?" Zeck probed.

Beta explained, "I told my followers my own gene-research had failed that and it was true, but what I didn't tell them was that I stole the information I needed from Mars. I have a secret lab, filled with prototype Chaos Primaris Marines, utterly loyal to me."

Zeck gasped in shock, "There are more like you out there?"

"Not like me," Beta uttered, "Better, faster and stronger… in theory. I am still having a little trouble stabilising them, they tend to die after a few days, that's why I kept my old minions around for so long. But they certainly can last long enough to retake the ship for me. I just have to get there and release them from stasis."

Zeck muttered, "I'm not sure I like the idea of letting loose more of you."

Beta frowned as he stated, "I made a bargain with your tribe and I do not like being indebted to anyone, Daemon or mortal."

Then Zeck sighed, "We seem to have no choice but to trust you. Give us time to get Refus up and moving, I only hope it's not far."

Beta nodded and said, "Worry not, soon everything shall be mine again and I shall make sure those who crossed me get what is owed to them."


	22. Chapter 22

**Falsa Verum Chapter 22**

The end was close now, so close that Beta could taste it, tantalising him with its beauty. Soon he would reach his secret army and be restored to his rightful place. He would once more command the Shadow and all those who had betrayed him would suffer, even this Omegon would be no match for the power that awaited him.

Beta was making his way towards the Shadow's bow, moving through the triple reinforced armour that covered the prow of the ship. This area was expected to take heavy damage and so was reinforced with Adamantium supports and crush spaces, designed to take staggering amounts of damage without endangering the precious launch bay and forward lances. They were currently making their way under one of those, picking a route through the primary coolant system that serviced one of the mighty turbolasers.

Behind him the three surviving mutants trudged along, utterly bone tired but still moving. Thanks to their knowledge they had managed to avoid encounters with other mutant tribes, fights Beta really didn't need. The mutants had survived longer than he had expected but soon he would need them no more. He spent a moment wondering what he would do with them once he no longer required their services, he could eliminate them and leave their corpses to rot but he was reluctant to do so. They had been useful and he had made bargains he intended to keep. Promises and oaths to serve mighty lords were stupid things, easily broken, but debts were another matter, Beta did not intend to be indebted to anyone. In the end it came down to what was best for the Legion, everything Beta did was in service to the Alpha Legion.

Beta ducked under an ice-covered pipe carrying liquid oxygen to the turbolaser and squinted ahead. Without his helm his autosenses were non-existent but he still had transhuman eyes and discerned that the route through the cooling system was clear. It was a good thing too, his armour was a wreck, wheezing and sparking in fits as its systems failed. His body wasn't much better, the physiology of an Astartes was remarkable but it had limits. He had taken too much damage, in too short a time, for his body to repair swiftly. He would be weakened for days.

More concerning was his Sorcery. His mind was battered and his power was sluggish and unfocused. Beta was still unsure how he had summoned such towering power beforehand and was having trouble repeating the feat. Perhaps it was his damaged condition, perhaps it was his weariness, but that supreme might was beyond his reach. Something was holding him back and he could not determine what it was.

The mutants behind him ducked as they followed in his wake and Zeck called, "Are we there yet?"

"Almost," Beta replied, "The end is in sight."

"Good," Refus exclaimed, "I don't wanna go any further."

Beta paused by a bulky power cable and looked back at them, he was about to urge them on but suddenly froze as he saw Zeck tense. His own psychic abilities were blunted and infective but he recognised that look all too well. He reacted on pure instinct, throwing himself to one side with blinding speed. The act saved his life, for an instant later a glowing double-headed axe swept through the space where he had been standing, aiming right for his neck. Beta lurched backwards, armour creaking with the sudden movement as his eyes beheld another ghost emerge from behind the power cable. His eyes took in the sight and his hearts nearly stopped as he beheld the looming figure, covered in chained 'A' shapes and bearing a huge axe in both hands. The Sorcerer frantically back-pedalled as he gasped, "Gamma!"

It was indeed the ghost of Gamma, his old squadmate who had been infected with a bio-weapon. The savage warrior had been trained by Beta himself, raised to be a brutal and merciless and give no quarter in battle. He proved it too, charging out of the darkness with his weapon swinging. There was no taunting this time, Gamma came right at him and went straight for the heart. Beta threw himself aside once more but the axe ripped across his breastplate, shattering it into pieces. The armour fell apart and rained around his boots as he cried, "Gamma stop!"

Gamma roared in anger as he attacked, swinging his weapon wildly in huge arcs. The mutants cried out in fear as they scattered, diving under the pipes for shelter. Beta tried to respond to the brutal attacks by summoning his power but found he could not, because for the first time ever he froze in indecision. This was Gamma, a soul he had raised and trained himself, there was no closer bond among Astartes.

The moment of doubt almost cost him his life, the axe swung for his head and only a reflexive jerk saved his life. The glowing weapon instead carved a deep furrow into the pipe behind him, piercing the coating to release a torrent of liquid oxygen. Beta had to dive head-first to the ground, rolling over the floor to avoid the spray, but another was not so fortunate. Cowering under the pipe was Refus and he was hit full on by the super-chilled chemical, inundating him head to toe as it poured into his screaming lungs. In a heartbeat Refus was flash-frozen to death, toppling over as an icy statue.

Beta had no time to watch for an ethereal boot slammed into his stomach, doubling him over. Then the axe blade struck his side, carving a deep furrow into his flank. Beta yelled in agony as his vital fluids spilled out and he clamped both hands to his side to stem the flow of blood. He was left helpless as Gamma loomed over him and finally spoke, "Prepare to die!"

Beta was debilitated, unable to stand or fight but he looked up and implored, "Gamma, it's me. You don't want to kill me."

"Oh yes I do," Gamma growled, "You've had this coming for a long time."

Beta couldn't believe his eyes and pleaded, "Don't you remember what we meant to each other?"

Gamma growled, "I remember you lording over me, always convinced of your own superiority."

Beta blood spat on the floor and hissed, "I raised and trained you, I made you what you are."

Gamma sneered back, "You made a weapon, a brute enforcer to cement your rule. You needed a strong right arm, nothing more."

Beta shook his head and gasped, "It wasn't like that…"

"Lies," Gamma spat, "I know what you said about me behind my back: brains were not required. I heard more than you knew, I always did."

Desperately Beta wheezed, "I led you as best I could…"

But Gamma growled, "You failed."

Beta looked up at Gamma's ghost and uttered, "We were as close as any two warriors could be. You were like a son to me, it broke my heart when you died."

But Gamma scoffed "You say that but I remember the bio-weapon you built infecting me, I remember your finger on the button that euthanized me, but more than that I remember the voice that spoke to me beforehand. When I was infected Chaos offered me immortality, but you killed me before I could embrace it!"

"I had to," Beta gasped, "It was corrupting you, making you a puppet. I had to cut it off before it endangered the Legion."

Gamma snarled and his boot lashed out, kicking Beta so hard he skidded backwards. Beta curled up in agony, hands clenched to his wounds as they wept fresh blood. He lowered his head and clenched his eyes as Gamma roared, "Lies! You didn't care about the Legion or me, you were jealous! I was about to become greater than you, I was about to break free of your control! You couldn't bear the thought of that, of having someone more powerful than you around. If you couldn't rule then no one could."

Beta was helpless to resist as Gamma hefted his axe and said, "Time to die… but first a secret of my own. You weren't the only one who lied, I did too: I pretended we were Brothers, I pretended we had a bond. The truth was I never cared for you in the slightest; you had the power I craved, secrets I desired to claim. You were nothing but a means to end for me, once I drained every last morsel of use from you I was planning to kill you myself."

Beta heard the words wash over him and it made his hearts break. For so long he had harboured remorse and self-recriminations for Gamma's death, the bond he had broken. Now he discovered it had all been false, they had never been Brothers, not truly. Gamma had been nothing more than another pretender to his rule, everything he thought he knew about their warrior-bond had been wrong. Beta's spirit turned to ash and in his soul the last ember of his self-delusions died.

Wracked with dark revelation Beta gasped, "You are right about me, about everything. I have lied and deceived everybody, even myself. Our bond was a mere sham, one more lie in an eternity of falsehoods. I am a Traitor three times over, to the Imperium, to the Legion and to the nobility within myself. I have done unspeakable things, horrible, vile deeds that would shatter your sanity. I have broken every promise I have ever made and betrayed anyone who ever trusted me. I said I did it for the Legion, but that was not true, I did it all for my own advancement, ten thousand years of treachery and betrayal…."

Then Beta's head rose up and his eyes opened to reveal crackling orbs of raw Warp power as he cried, "And I enjoyed every damned second of it!"

Gamma's ghost gasped in shock as a spell of ethereal might picked him up and crushed him in its embrace. Gamma was pinned, trapped like an insect in the fist of a grown man. His axe fell from his grip and dissolved into smoke as he cried, "What are you doing?!"

Beta rose to his feet on a wave of Immaterial might and raised his arms. The power he had felt before returned in abundance as the revelation came that he had always been the one holding it back. A dam in his mind had been shattered, a locked door he didn't even know existed had been opened and at last he was given free rein to act without restraint.

Beta gazed at Gamma's ghost and a wicked grin crept over his lips as he proclaimed, "Millennia of deceptions: pretending to be the dutiful servant of the Legion for so long that I came to believe it myself, a lie I told so often that I forgot who I truly was. I set limits on myself; I restrained my potential, all to create the illusion of a loyal Legionnaire. I was wrapped in a chain of my own making and my only gaoler was myself. But the pure unvarnished truth is I never cared for the Legion; I never cared for any of you! I did it all for myself, every single betrayal was to make myself more powerful!"

Gamma squirmed in his imprisonment and squealed, "You can't do this!"

But Beta crowed, "Even you, I feared what Chaos would make of you, I couldn't let you surpass me so I killed you and I would do so again! I would do it all over: every betrayal, every backstab, only this time I would revel in it! From now on I act only for my own benefit. No more holding back, no more limiting myself. I will slaughter a path across the stars, revelling in the carnage I unleash as I leave billions of widows and orphans in my wake!"

Gamma's ghost fought impotently in his grip and barked, "No, you're supposed to die!"

Yet Beta waved his hand as he declared, "Thank you for setting me free and goodbye."

Gamma's ghost immediately erupted into flames, blue fire consuming his wispy form and reducing him to ash. The ghost screamed as it was obliterated, leaving only crumbling cinders behind that evaporated into nothingness. Beta watched with a wicked grin of triumph as Gamma was destroyed, and he exulted in the pain and torment of the spectre in its last moment. Then Gamma was gone and Beta felt his powers ebb, cut off to leave a terrible weariness behind. He collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from his side, as darkness swept over him but before unconsciousness took him he whispered, "From now on Beta serves only himself."


	23. Chapter 23

**Falsa Verum Chapter 23**

They hurried along as best they could, almost carrying Beta between them. The Master was wrecked, his armour reduced to shards of ceramite and his body was hardly any better. Zeck was struggling to keep going, the weight of the master crushing his back but there was no other choice, they had to keep moving. Across from him, Lynia was supporting Beta's other arm but she muttered, "How much sodding further?"

Beta's head was lolling on his neck but he muttered, "Almost there."

Before them the last passageway ran through a derelict and decaying section of the Hull. It looked abandoned and forgotten, like nobody had come this way in centuries, but Beta swore it was the location of his secret cache. Zeck was ambivalent about that, the idea of giving Beta an army to command rubbed him wrong, but there had been no other choice. They had spent too much time and blood to get here, Munny, Alk, Refus, they couldn't let their deaths be for nothing. That last one twisted in Zeck's guts, he thought he had saved Refus, he thought he had defied prophecy but the twist had died regardless. It had been instantaneous but that was no comfort, another friend had died for Beta and Zeck couldn't help but replay his last moments over and over in his memory. Refus had frozen to death, maybe it was only his imagination but in the back of his mind Zeck thought he could hear the mocking laughter of the Daemon.

Between them Beta was muttering, "Free, at last free of the past. All my ghosts… all my sins brought back to haunt me. I forgot who I was… but they set me free of my delusions. All of them sent to…"

Zeck was brought to a halt as Beta suddenly froze, his immense weight locked into stillness. Zeck gasped, "Frak!"

Beta however cried, "Gods Below! Harbinger was right, that cur Omegon, no wonder he came here! Frakking whoreson!"

Lynia tried to shove Beta onwards but couldn't move him as she gasped, "That's it, he's lost his mind, he's gone completely bonkers."

Zeck tugged at Beta's arm and said, "Come on, come on."

Beta wasn't listening as he growled, "I'm going to kill him with my bare hands…"

Suddenly he lurched back into motion and Zeck was hurriedly forced to move again as he gasped, "What was that?"

Beta didn't respond but Lynia exhaled, "Can't… keep going like this… for long."

"Not much further," Zeck gasped under the Master's weight.

Together they lurched onwards, taking step after step until Zeck couldn't feel his feet anymore. Just as his legs were about to give way the passageway suddenly opened up before them, widening into an alcove with a shining door set into the left side. It glimmered in the dank light, totally unlike the decrepit surroundings, which now seemed a cunning cover for this hidden entrance. Zeck could see the door was thick and reinforced with metal bars, it looked like it could survive just about anything and the twist could not imagine anything that could penetrate such a mighty barrier. As they stumbled into the alcove Beta at last reacted, his head coming up as his excitement stirred. The Master managed to lurch upright and he staggered over to the door, leaning against it as he examined a large cog shaped lock in the centre. He began fiddling with it as he whispered, "At last, my army awaits."

Zeck stepped back and rubbed his sore shoulder but he heard Lynia whisper, "Is this it, are we done?"

"I guess so," Zeck replied, "We got him here, now we sit back and let him do his thing."

"Good riddance," Lynia muttered, "This outing has cost us far too much, we should never have agreed to go with him."

"No argument here," Zeck replied, "The sooner we get back to the Place, the better."

Lynia was about to ask another question but before she could do so Zeck's antenna's picked up something strange. A vague sense of movement in the surrounding area, someone was out there, he knew it and he called, "Beta, there's something nearby."

Yet Beta wasn't listening, leaning against the door as he fiddled with dials and switches, then the door clunked open and all other thoughts were lost as the mighty doors swung wide.

Beyond was a sterile and cold facility, a wide and white chamber, with a low roof. It was filled with benches, bearing humming machines and bubbling chemical baths. Strange lights glinted off whirring cylinders and strange collections of glass tubes, that looked like the glassblower had hiccups, distilled rare chemicals. It was unlike anything Zeck had ever imagined, the sophistication of it and the arcane apparatus took his breath away. But that was secondary to his shock, for one glance was enough to tell him that it had been wrecked.

The chamber was filled with wreckage, broken devices and shattered shards of glass. Alchemic baths had been overturned and piles of sample tubes thrown on the floor and crushed to bits. Even the undamaged devices were failing, their chemicals turning black and turgid as they were left to rot. The chamber's walls bore black scorch marks and red sprays of blood and there were bodies, piles of bodies, all dressed in white smocks and isolation gear. They had been torn apart, ripped into pieces by giant hands and the smell of them was enough to make Zeck gag.

Beta started forward, stumbling into the chamber as he gasped, "No, it can't be…"

Lynia's jaw fell open as she exclaimed, "What happened?"

Zeck felt his hopes dying as he gazed upon the wreckage and he uttered, "Someone beat us here."

"Impossible," Beta hissed, "This laboratorium was secure, I made sure of it. Nobody knew about this place, even the adepts were not allowed to leave."

"Well someone knew about it," Zeck snapped.

"The prototypes!" Beta suddenly cried as he lumbered towards a door in the back of the facility. The twists followed him, hurrying to match his sudden burst of movement as he dashed deeper within. They passed through various rooms of lesser import and broken dormitories, where he assumed the adepts lived. Beta seemed to know exactly where he was going and swiftly made his way to another wide door, this one open and inviting.

They raced within but were brought up short by what awaited them. Before Zeck stretched two lines of upright glassic tubes, each one twice his height and broader than he could wrap his arms around. They had once been filled with a viscous blue liquid, supporting giant bodies that could only belong to Masters. The line stretched as far as he could see, there must have been hundreds of them, but they too were smashed. The tubes were shattered, leaving jagged shards of razor-sharp glassic scattered everywhere and the bodies contained within were slumped limply, clearly dead and starting to rot.

Zeck felt his boots sticking to the floor, the combination of the blue liquid and blood creating a sticky mix and he said, "This was your army?"

Beta knelt in the wreckage of his ambitions and picked up a glassic shard as he moaned, "Gone… it's all gone. My Primaris are dead before we even started."

Lynia looked about in dismay and uttered, "Surely, there must be something left?"

"No," Beta whispered as he dropped the shard, "Whoever did this was meticulous and thorough; they wouldn't have missed a single one."

Suddenly a new voice rang froth declaring, "I am glad you approve!"

Zeck spun on his heel and stared behind him, seeing three more intruders behind him. They were Masters, he could tell that at a glance but they were not ghosts. These warriors were clearly defined and hard-edged, missing the customary blue glow and the weapons in their hands looked all too real. They loomed over the twists with deadly menace and Zeck cursed as he realised this was the vague movement he had sensed before.

Beta's eyes narrowed as he hissed, "Delta, Epsilon and… wait, is that Talgor? What's he doing here?"

The lead one, Delta Zeck thought he was called, uttered, "Never mind that, we're here for you Beta."

Beta glanced to his side and muttered, "I take it this was your doing?"

Delta nodded as he proclaimed, "We knew you would come here, we've been waiting for you. Although it took you a lot longer than we thought, what kept you?"

Zeck tried to edge out the way of the sneering giants but one off to the side, with a daemon-mawed gun, snarled, "Don't think we can't see you little freak."

Suddenly Lynia cried, "No, its too much! We came all this way for nothing!" Her anger bubbled over and she leapt into a charge, running right at the warrior with her short spear held laterally.

Zeck barked, "No don't try it," but Lynia wasn't listening, running straight at the towering master with her rage frothing over. The Master for his part watched her closing, seemingly disinterested in her feral attack, then he lifted one hand from his weapon and casually swept it at her. The back of his gauntlet caught Lynia in the side of the head, sending her spinning away as blood sprayed from her mouth. She hit the floor and slumped there, dazed and incoherent as she passed out.

Her charge had been futile but in the moment of distraction Beta rose to his feet, words of arcane power spilling from his lips. Zeck thought for a second he would cast some spell, but the others reacted faster than he could believe. From the back the third master, the one who had not yet spoken blurred into motion, crossing the intervening space faster than anything Zeck could have believed possible. His fist slammed into Beta's unarmoured stomach, doubling the Sorcerer over, then the other hand came up. Held in his grip was a circular device of dark iron, etched with glowing runes and in one swift movement he clamped it around Beta's neck, like a slave collar.

Beta fell to his knees, grappling with the collar but seemed unable to remove it. The runes glowed wickedly and Zeck felt nauseous simply being near them, their effect on his antenna like a rasp drawn over soft flesh. Whatever they were they seemed to be blocking Beta's powers, leaving him helpless as he writhed in their fell grasp. Delta looked upon him and sighed, "That's better, we thought it best you were properly warded. So… what about you little mutant; care to try anything?"

Zeck knew it was pointless and merely raised his hands in defeat. Delta nodded as he said, "Smart move."

Beta glowered at the trio and snarled, "You should have killed me."

Delta chuckled, "Oh no… we want Omegon to see you first."

Beta sounded angry as he spat, "You serve him?! That whoreson doesn't deserve your loyalty!"

The one called Talgor chuckled, "Loyalty? Hardly that, we know he is untrustworthy, but you will soften his guard. When we present you to him we will be rewarded, given positions of power and authority, from where we can plan our next steps."

Beta replied, "Don't believe for a second he'll let you live long, he can't. This Omegon can't afford to let you live. I know things about him, I figured it out you see, I know his secrets."

"Enough banter," the third one hissed, "You aren't getting out of this."

Beta glanced up and said, "Epsilon… it was you wasn't it? You found this facility."

"Guilty as charged," Epsilon crowed, "You thought you were cunning but I noted your absences over the years. Tracking your movements was difficult, you shielded yourself well, but you forgot to mask the power drain of this facility. All that energy siphoned off the ship's power grid… well, you might as well have put up a sign."

Beta snarled, "You didn't have to destroy it, this work could have made you supreme."

Delta shook his head and sighed, "You think we weren't wary for traps? We aren't idiots; these clone-breeds would doubtlessly be indoctrinated to serve you alone. We're done bowing to you, as you taught us the Legion is bigger than any lone warrior."

"Screw the Legion," Beta snapped, "Its nothing but another con!"

The three were actually taken aback by that and Talgor exclaimed, "That was unexpected, you have changed."

"Enough," Delta snapped, "We are going to extract every last drop of information from this lot; I want to know all his secrets."

Zeck gulped at that but Beta glared up at them defiantly and spat, "I won't tell you anything."

Delta leered down at him and uttered, "Oh but you will… you are our prisoner and you will tell us everything you know, then we shall drag you before Omegon. The mutants too, for amusement's sake, if nothing else. We shall at last take what is ours and you Beta will be the key to our ascension."


	24. Chapter 24

**Falsa Verum Chapter 24**

The Strategium stretched out before him, filled with dark shadows and uncomfortable angles. He could see it all as he marched through the doors in chains. Beta kept his head held high as he was forced to walk at gunpoint, his shackles clinking with every step. Worse than that was the warding collar around his neck, a clamp upon his abilities. He felt deaf and blind wearing it but he endured the torment. He was about to confront the author of his downfall and would not shirk from it, not when he had at last grasped the truth.

Behind him Delta, Epsilon and Talgor kept their bolters levelled at his back, not taking any chances. Beta knew it was pointless, his warding was annoyingly effective but they were wary of him regardless. Not a bad idea he was forced to confess, he would certainly kill them given the slightest opportunity. Right at the back, almost as an afterthought came the two mutants, head bowed in defeat. Nobody paid them any mind, they were irrelevant in this gathering.

As they marched in Beta beheld a large throne had been set up in the Strategium, bearing a most singular individual. The being radiated power and authority, a wall of sheer charisma surrounding him. He seemed larger than life, from the golden snakes adorning his armour to the two-bladed spear leaning against his armrest. His helm was removed, to reveal eyes of startling green, that spoke of a depthless cunning and brilliant intellect. He was flanked by a pair of guards, former lackeys of Beta's who now served the new master of the splinter. He hardly needed them though, one look was enough to assert his power and majesty, nobody could dare to think of challenging him.

Yet Beta refused to acknowledge the aura, it was nothing but another means of control. He would face his adversary with his head held high, knowing that death was inevitable. He glared up at Omegon, lips clamped shut as he proclaimed his defiance. The figure at last stirred and leaned forward as he uttered, "So it is true, you have defeated Beta."

Delta brought the party to a halt and proclaimed, "We bring the turncoat before you Lord Omegon, to prove our worthiness to you."

Omegon frowned as he asked, "Why is he still breathing?"

Delta replied, "Well… we did wonder about that but then we thought you would rather enjoy killing him yourself."

Omegon chuckled as he replied, "How right you are, well done my servants. You shall be richly rewarded for this and shall take your place by my side."

Delta bowed slightly and said, "We live to serve."

Omegon finally rose to his feet, picking up his spear as the guards fell in behind him. A kick to the back of the knee sent Beta to the floor, while Epsilon shoved the mutants into a corner. Beta looked up as Omegon came to loom over him while Delta and the others took up positions of deference behind him. Beta felt the awe-inspiring presence of the Primarch beat at his senses but clung to his defiance as he spat, "So you caught me at last, happy now?"

Omegon shook his head and commented, "Beta, you always were a cunning one. Always with the hidden angle, a blade held in the shadows, but look at you now. Reduced to nothing, how pathetic."

"At least I am true to myself," Beta growled, "What are you? Hiding your identity for so long, wrapped in lies and deceit. Even now you are not being true to yourself."

"Don't pretend you know me," Omegon snarled, "I overcame your treachery, I outmanoeuvred you and tore you off your perch. Now I command all. The Legion is mine once more and soon I shall rule the stars, Hydra Dominatus!"

Beta's lip curled in contempt and he spat, "Don't give me that, you rule nothing. That's why you came here… to take what is mine."

Omegon's anger stirred, forcing his guards to take a step back as he growled, "You shall pay for that, I have waited a long time to end you and I will enjoy this."

Beta insolently spat, "Are you planning to slack about all day or are you going to get on with it?"

Omegon took up his spear and tested the edge with his gauntleted thumb as he commented, "Eager to die are we?"

Yet Beta's stare was unblinking as he replied, "Actually… I wasn't talking to you."

Suddenly there was a blur of movement behind Omegon as Delta whipped out both his knives and buried them deep within the Primarch's spine. Omegon let slip a roar of outrage as his legs went out beneath him and he collapsed in a heap upon the floor. His spear fell to the ground and a swift kick sent it spinning away, rattling over the floor as it rolled into the shadows. It was a moment of utter shock but the guards were still Astartes and reacted with blinding speed by bringing up their weapons, unfortunately the other traitors were faster.

Talgor's bolter let rip on full auto and tore one of the guards in half while Epsilon tackled the other. His hand came up, bearing a fusion cutter, and he applied it to the side of the guard's neck, melting through the armour in a heartbeat to turn his throat into a charred mess. The guards fell down, dying upon the deck, as the trio of turncoats hastily moved to cover Omegon, expecting a vicious counterattack. The ambush had been swift and exact, hitting the Lord and his guards when they least expected it and cutting them down with ruthless efficiency.

Yet Omegon was merely thrashing helplessly upon the floor as he snarled, "Betrayers! You'll die for this!"

Frantically Talgor yelled, "Quickly, finish him off before he kills us!"

Yet Delta was standing stock still and said, "Wait…"

Epsilon started in shock and said, "Wait?! He's Primarch, we have to end him fast, before he kills us all!"

Yet Delta cocked his head, examining the fallen Omegon as he muttered, "Then why hasn't he done it already?"

Everybody paused for a moment then Talgor exclaimed, "He's right, a Primarch should be able to recover from that wound. We thought we'd have to hit him with everything we've got, but he's no better than us."

At that point there was a discrete cough from the floor and Beta spoke up to say, "I can solve that riddle for you."

Faces turned towards him and Delta hissed, "How?"

Beta raised his shackles and exposed the collar on his neck as he said, "Do you mind?"

The trio shared a loaded glance then Delta indicated the others to cover him with their bolters as he stepped closer and said, "No tricks, we're watching you. You were right to say he would gloat over your capture, why waste months scheming when there would never be a better moment to strike, but don't think that means we trust you one jot."

"I wouldn't think of it," Beta replied as the collar came free and he stood upright. He felt the rush of his abilities returning to him and spent a moment revelling in his full capabilities, then he turned his attention upon the fallen Omegon. He stalked closer and loomed over Omegon as the Primarch tried to squirm away but had not the use his legs and could only hiss, "Stay back."

Yet Beta kept closing nearer, grinning wickedly as he uttered, "This won't hurt a bit, actually that's only half true. I won't feel a thing… you however."

He crouched in front of Omegon and waved his hand and in his mind he intoned the cantrip given to him by Harbinger. That little spell, whose function he had only just figured out. Omegon's face grimaced as pain swept over him then his flesh began to ripple and distort. Like the wind over a still pond, the Primarch's face quivered and ran, his features melting and a hiss of agony escaped his lips. Then it tore off, his whole face lifting free and turning into a rippled distortion in the air that wrapped itself around Beta's hand. The mask ripped away to reveal another face, one that was not glorious or majestic, merely another Transhuman, one they all recognised.

"Indrago Theed!" Delta yelled in a shocked tone.

Epsilon sounded aghast as he exclaimed, "Indrago Theed?! You mean we've been sodding crapping ourselves in absolute terror of Indrago bloody Theed?!"

Talgor sounded utterly confused as he yelped, "But he died years ago! We all saw it; his brains were blown out on the hanger deck of the Shadow."

Beta grinned wickedly as he inquired, "Did we? It was a supremely clever ruse Indrago, disguising one of your own lackeys as yourself, so you could kill him in front of us. Years of deception, years spent pretending to be someone else, all to make us think you were dead. How did you pull it off Indrago?"

The newly revealed Indrago Theed glared at the Sorcerer and spat, "I'm not telling you anything."

Beta however merely looked at the writhing distortion wrapped around his fist and commented, "This is a masterful glamour, it fooled even me. It's so potent, far too strong for any mortal to conjure. There's Daemonic strength in this, have you been making pacts of your own Indrago?"

Indrago's lip curled as he muttered, "How did you figure it out?"

Beta brushed away the powerful glamour and watched it evaporate in mid-air then he explained, "You sent my ghosts after me, all my past sins. The Unbroken Chain, Master Kroswan, Habreal Gorsch, Vorshaan and Gamma. But there was someone missing from that line-up: Indrago Theed. Did you actually think I wouldn't notice your absence?"

Behind him Epsilon uttered, "I don't understand, he's not a Primarch or the Harrowmaster. Where's the real Harrowmaster? When did Indrago replace him?"

Indrago sneered from the floor, "You idiots, there is no Harrowmaster, there never was! It's a mask, passed from warlord to warlord for ten thousand years and sometimes there are several warlords adopting the same persona."

"But the Alpha Legion…" Delta stammered.

Indrago spat, "Doesn't exist, not as a unified whole, there's no higher organisation, no grand strategy governing our movements. The 'Lords of the Legion' are shams, the truth is that between them they can muster barely a fifth of the known Splinters. None of them directly control anything; the only power they wield is respect. The Alpha Legion is nothing but a thousand splinters, slaughtering and conquering as they will. Some fight for Chaos, some for themselves and few are actually deluded enough to think they still serve the False Emperor's cause. Occasionally a Lord manages to scrape together a few Splinters for a campaign but it doesn't last long."

"What of Alpharius Omegon?" Talgor pressed.

"Who knows," Indrago muttered, "No one's seen them in ten millennia."

Delta shook his head and said, "But why? Why go to all this trouble, what was Indrago's endgame?"

Indrago went silent but Beta answered for him, "The Shadow, a Glorianna class Battleship of his very own. He knew he couldn't take it from me by main force so he played a long-con, to steal it out from under me."

Indrago hissed angrily, "It was to be mine, all of it! You don't deserve this power; you never used it to full effect, but I would, I was going to rule the stars with this ship. Worlds would have shuddered at the shadow of my passing!"

Beta nodded as he said, "You are right about one thing, I never did live up to my potential. I thank you for the lesson, I shall make sure to do better. Now I think we've had enough of you… Delta?"

Delta stepped forward and with one swift movement, he slit Indrago's throat. Blood sprayed out as he collapsed to the floor, spilling his vital fluids out as he quivered in death. The body of Indrago squirmed for a few moments then at last went still, his features going pale as death took him. Beta stayed crouched to watch it all, drinking in every last moment of his death until at last the one who had fooled him was gone.

Finally Beta brushed off his hands and stood up, he turned away from the corpse of his old rival but was brought up short by a line of bolters. Delta, Epsilon and Talgor all had their weapons pointed at him and Beta saw in their eyes the willingness to use them as Delta hissed, "Now the question becomes, what shall we do with you?"


	25. Chapter 25

**Falsa Verum Chapter 25**

Beta faced down the line of bolters, their unwavering barrels fixed upon his body. Death was only the twitch of a trigger finger away and without his armour he could not survive their first volley. His powers were at their lowest ebb and he doubted he could deflect even a single round, let alone a full barrage. He looked upon his former minions and saw in their steady gazes the willingness and capability to use their guns. He was in no doubt that they would not hesitate to kill him, which raised the question as to why they had not done so already.

Talgor was the first to speak, "Let me do it, I've always wanted his head on my backpack pole."

Epsilon didn't look away but he growled, "What, let you take all the credit? I don't think so."

Then Delta spat, "I deduced his location, I get to kill him!"

Ah, Beta thought, there it is. There was a power play at work here, the sudden vacuum of leadership drawing them in. These three were already vying for dominance and they knew whom ever killed him would gain the respect of the Splinter and so would be first in line to assume command. Beta realised then that they had not planned this far ahead, none of them had bothered to wonder what happened after they killed their false lord. Now he could practically hear the wheels turning in their minds, the schemes and ploys forming as they judged who was most likely to survive the inevitable fight to come.

Talgor hissed, "We can't all kill him."

Then Epsilon barked, "I should do it!"

Beta very carefully made no sudden movements as he interjected, "Is that really necessary? We don't have to fight."

Epsilon sounded scornful as he snorted, "Don't try to weasel your way out of this, there is no way we would spare you. You must think we are stupid, the second we turn our backs you will kill us with some spell."

"He's right," Talgor hissed, "We can't trust you."

"No," Beta confessed, "You can't trust my loyalty… but you can trust my self-interest."

Epsilon growled, "Don't listen to him, let me shoot him!"

But Beta implored, "Use your brains for once, what does fighting each other get us? We could fight it out right now, until only one of us is left standing, but how long would the victor rule? How long until some uppity champion decides to plunge a knife in? Watching every shadow for the next scheming usurper… I've lived that life and it doesn't lead anywhere, it's a dead-end."

Talgor snarled, "What other life is there for Chaos Marines?"

"Exactly my point," Beta said, "We can tear each other apart, but we should try to find another way to get what we want. Just for once stop undermining each other and work towards our mutual benefit."

Warily Epsilon muttered, "Who are you and what have you done with Beta?"

Beta grinned slightly as he said, "I know it sounds odd, coming from me of all people. Yet I have had my failing made plain to me and it is obvious to me that not one warlord can rule the Alpha Legion, not even a Splinter. Are we endlessly going to repeat our failures or do we have the wit to see it's a fool's game? I'm willing to try to find a new way to run things around here."

Epsilon snorted, "Don't waste our time; we know you don't care about any of us."

"Indeed, I don't care about any of you," Beta stated, "But don't pretend you care for each other either. Truly do any of you really trust each other?"

A frosty silence greeted that as they all realised it was true, the three were indeed already planning their next betrayals. Delta lowered his aim a hairsbreadth and sighed, "Endless backstabbing, scheme upon scheme upon scheme. I sometimes wonder if we are even capable of walking in a straight line and I grow tired of it. What are you suggesting?"

Beta explained, "I tried to run this Splinter on my own and it didn't work, I was surrounded by knives in the dark and no one got what they really wanted. But we each have things the others want, so why fight each other when we can work together? My sorcery, Delta's cunning, Epsilon's skills and Talgor's popularity with the troops. Acting in concert we can achieve far more than we could ever dream to accomplish alone. Mutual self-interest, it's the one thing we all share."

The three of them took their eyes off him for an instant, looking at each other in disbelief. Then Epsilon said, "This is ridiculous, we can't believe a word you say."

Talgor agreed, "No Chaos Marine would ever trust another, we'd be fools to let you out of our sight."

"Words fail me," Beta sighed, "So it seems I must prove my intent to you."

Very slowly Beta turned and carefully made his way over to the wall. He pressed his hand against it and counted to ten while the others watched with bolters trained at his back. Delta inquired, "What are you doing?"

Beta replied, "Didn't any of you wonder why this chamber had such odd angles?"

Suddenly the wall next to him was cracked by a sliver of light, a vertical slit that widened as two thick doors parted before him. Beyond was revealed a sterile white chamber, filled with upright glassic tubes. They stretched away from him in two lines, fifty to a side and all humming peacefully with the content mummer of Machines at work. Beta grinned as the trio inched closer and peered within, taking in the contents. The tubes were each taller than a Space Marine and filled with a viscous fluid, within which bobbed the form of a Transhuman warrior. At first glance they looked like Astartes but careful observation revealed that they were taller and more heavily muscled.

Delta sounded stunned as he gasped, "You had more of these things?"

"Of course," Beta replied with a knowing grin, "I would never keep them all in one place. I kept the most stable of them here, right under everybody's noses. A shame about the laboratory, years of work down the drain, but there are enough subjects here to start over. Their gene-seed can be harvested to create our own Primaris Marines. We still have to solve the problems of stability, their lives are distressingly short, but together I am confident we can find a solution."

Talgor sounded desirous as he growled, "Chaos Primaris Marines, an army of superior warriors at our command."

"Just imagine the worlds we could scorch bare with warriors like these," Beta prompted, "But the next generation will need someone to train them, Talgor."

Talgor went silent as his ambitions stirred but Epsilon was looking at the machinery supporting the prototypes and whispered, "I have never seen archeotech like that."

Beta nodded as he said, "All yours, it needs improvement anyway. Keeping the subjects stable is proving challenging; I'd love to have your input on any upgrades."

Delta glanced at Beta and asked, "You have hypno-indoctrinated them?"

"Somewhat," Beta admitted, "It's a work in progress, perhaps you could take charge of that."

Delta went quiet as he thought about it, no doubt planning how he would change their implanted programming to suit himself. Then he drew in a breath and said, "Honesty from you, I never thought I'd live to see the day. You have intrigued us but this will only work if we are candid with each other. No more secrets or lies, not between we four at least. We must share all our assets and have a full say in where this ship goes and who we conquer."

"I can work with that," Beta stated.

Epsilon sounded wary as he said, "We will be taking precautions against your inevitable betrayal."

"Naturally," Beta replied, "We all will, but this army needs all four of us to bring into reality. That is our guarantee of loyalty, so long as we remain more useful to each other alive than dead, we can do this. Everything we have ever wanted is within our grasp… so what do you say: Partners?"

Delta looked at the other two, who nodded in agreement, then he said, "I find it hard to imagine a time when we don't have to watch our backs for the next knife. But I'm willing to give it a try, if the only option is more backstabbing, then partners it is.

Then Epsilon asked, "But what of the Legion?"

"Screw the Legion," Beta proclaimed loudly, "From now on we fight only for ourselves!"


	26. Chapter 26

**Falsa Verum Chapter 26**

The hold was drab and dusty, a forgotten and unremarkable corner in the endless depths of the Hull. There was no cargo or personnel present; it was merely four blank walls and a lot of empty space. Zeck found it to be uncomfortably open, he was used to confined conditions but there was no danger present so he was content to wait.

Across from him Lynia was probing her gum with her tongue, feeling out a gap where two teeth were missing. She had lost the teeth when the Masters ambushed them, taking them prisoner and dragging them away in chains. Zeck had rather confused impressions of what had happened next, the Lord had turned out to not be a lord at all, then the Masters had squabbled over things he hadn't understood. All he was certain of was that Beta had somehow wormed his way out of danger yet again, conniving a means of escape against all odds.

Zeck drew in a breath and said, "How much longer?"

"Relax," Lynia muttered, "We got the supplies we were promised. They are already on their way to the Place, our tribe will be rich. I only hope they appreciate what we lost getting their stuff."

It was true, Beta had dispatched the supplies he had promised, Zeck was surprised he had kept to the letter of his agreement but he had called it settling a debt. As if summoned by the thought there was a stir of air at the door and Zeck spied Beta marching through into the hold. Beta looked glorious in his new armour, taken from the fallen false lord. His plate shimmered with iridescent scales and at his hip hung a helmet with a fanged serpent. In his hands was a long spear with two blades, that he held confidently in one hand.

Lynia whistled mockingly and called, "You look glam."

Beta's bald head wrinkled with a grin and he stated, "Spoils of war, Indrago didn't need it anymore. The spear is a bit much but it will serve."

Zeck rolled his eyes and said, "We're here to settle up and get back to the Hull."

Beta stated, "Ah yes the mutant tribes, you really should tell them that living under a Plasma Annihilator is not a good survival strategy. But first, there is one little matter to take care of."

"Eh?" Zeck queried, "You never said anything about that."

"I made bargains I intend to keep," Beta said, "You did too, it is not wise to be indebted to anyone."

With that he placed his speartip on the ground and began inscribing a large triangle surrounded by complicated runes. Zeck and Lynia shared a glance but then were waved to stand at two corners by Beta. Zeck muttered, "This had best not take long."

"Not long at all," Beta replied, "Soon all debts will be paid."

Zeck snorted in disgust but fell silent as Beta took up a position at the apex of the triangle and began a hypnotic chant. Zeck antenna's quivered as the melody rose and fell, feeling the words echoing in strange places he couldn't see. The words made his skin itch and he longed to scratch himself but kept still as the Sorcerer did whatever it was he was doing. Minutes crawled by as Zeck's mind wandered, returning to the Place. He thought about its simple nature and a part of him longed to go home but after all he had seen he wondered if he really could go back to how things were. He had seen a wider universe than he ever dreamed existed and going back to grubbing for scraps seemed so… small.

Then he wondered how the tribe would react when they realised Alk, Munny and Refus weren't going to come back. They would be sad but life for twists was short and brutal, usually ending without warning. Few twists lived long enough to get grey hairs and he did not doubt after a few tears were shed the tribe would simply pick up their lives and carry on.

The itch was getting unbearable now and he finally succumbed to the urge to scratch himself but it was at that point that the horrific realisation crept over Zeck that he couldn't move. His body was standing rigidly upright, trapped in a position of attention. Zeck remained completely aware of his surroundings, able to see and hear everything, but for some reason he was incapable of so much as a twitch of his fingers. He was like a statue, utterly powerless to interact with his surroundings. Zeck's mind quivered with fear as he struggled to break free of his confinement but he could not find the wherewithal to act. He was still breathing, he could feel the rise and fall of his chest and the beating of his heart, but other than that he was completely paralysed. Panic welled within him, a desperate urge to scream for help clawing at his throat, but the worst was yet to come.

Unexpectedly Zeck felt his head turn slightly, tilting to the left to gaze at Beta. It was the simplest of acts, banal and unremarkable save that Zeck had not willed it, his head was moving without his volition. Terror surged within his soul, he wanted to flail wildly and run from this place as the nightmarish realisation crept over him that Beta had done something to him. Beta seemed to realise this too, for he stopped his chanting and turned his head to gaze at Zeck, his face filled with a sadistic leer. A wicked glint stole over his eyes as the Master whispered, "It is done."

Zeck felt a similar leer pulling his own lips back, his flesh compelled to act against his will. Yet he heard Lynia ask innocently, "What is done?"

Beta didn't take his eyes off Zeck as he replied, "The debt is paid."

Lynia sounded worried as she said, "I… I don't like this… Zeck, we should go. Zeck?"

Zeck felt his head turning to look at the twist and he saw the worry and concern gnawing at her. He wanted to yell at her, telling her to run from the treacherous sorcerer, but he was powerless to say a word. But Lynia saw his motion and turned to face him saying, "Zeck? Zeck something's wrong… don't just stand there, we need to go!"

Zeck tried to scream a warning of danger but his cry did not pass his lips and then he felt his hand moving. Suddenly Lynia froze, her face taking on an expression of confused dismay and her one eye filled with stunned denial. Then Zeck's head tilted downwards and he beheld his own hand plunged deep within her chest, punching through her ribcage like it was damp paper. He could feel her lifeblood pouring out around his closed fist and his mind bawled denial at what he was doing. Then his hand jerked and tore out her still beating heart.

Lynia collapsed, dying unremarked on the floor as Zeck's hand lifted her heart to his eyes so he could examine it in detail. He felt the organ stop beating in his grip then his hand tossed it aside, like a trinket that has lost its novelty. His lips parted and his hand came up to his mouth then he felt his tongue lick the blood off his digits. The rich salt-iron taste of blood filled his mouth, making him want to vomit, even as his mind shrieked in rejection of what was happening.

Beta however seemed not in the least bit concerned as he asked, "Satisfied?"

Zeck felt his head turn and then to his absolute horror his own voice answered, "Barely, this flesh is weak and sallow. You promised me what I wanted most, not meagre pickings. This is poor repayment; could you not have sacrificed one of your own Legionnaires?"

"I still need them, I don't need Zeck," Beta replied callously, "You have what I promised: access to the Materium. You are real now; you can walk freely among the worlds of men."

Zeck's voice sneered, "I aided you, I gave you the means to win and set you free of your own self-delusions."

Beta countered, "I have fulfilled my part of the bargain to the letter, Harbinger."

Harbinger, Zeck's mind yammered in shock, the Daemon that Beta had summoned. Harbinger was the one controlling Zeck's body, directing him like a puppet on a string. No, it was more than that; in a manner he could not articulate Zeck perceived that his mind was not alone inside his head. There was a feathery touch ghosting over his thoughts, while alien impressions and memories that were not his own lurked just out of reach. Horrible, nightmarish things that would shatter the sanity of any mortal who beheld them. Zeck understood then that Harbinger was in possession of more than just his flesh, the Daemon possessed his mind and soul too.

Harbinger sniffed disdainfully and said, "If this is the best you have I'll make do. I am free and I have such delicious schemes to enact and revenge to claim."

Beta affirmed, "I'll drop you off on the nearest planet, you can make your way from there."

Harbinger cocked an eyebrow and said, "You should come with me, I can teach you so much."

"Not for the Golden Throne of Terra," Beta scoffed, "I am taking my ship and getting as far away from you as I can. Whatever you're planning, I intend to be in another Segmentum when you strike."

"Oh well," Harbinger sighed, "Plenty more where you came from. But I have to ask, how did you talk your comrades out of killing you? Chaos Marines not killing each other, it was remarkable. I was not anticipating this outcome at all."

Beta answered, "It wasn't easy, but I managed to show them how doing what I wanted benefited them personally. Mutual self-interest, it is the ultimate motivator and guarantee of success."

Harbinger commented, "Almost all potential futures contained your death, you died over and over and over in my sight. But in a few you emerged triumphant, surrounded by the bodies of your Brothers. Yet this future was singular, one solitary potential in a sea of surging possibilities. You rewrote the future, such a delightful change… Tzeentch is pleased."

Beta snapped, "I don't care what your God finds amusing."

Yet Harbinger needled, "You don't honestly think this partnership will last, sooner or later one of you will succumb to treachery, your own natures will not allow any other outcome."

Beta sounded dismissive as he stated, "It will last as long as it lasts."

Harbinger nodded and said, "Then let us part ways, I have places to be."

"A moment," Beta demurred as he leaned down to peer eye to eye, "Zeck? Are you still in there?"

Harbinger stated, "He can hear you, he is aware of all that transpires. It is more amusing this way, he and I shall have much to discuss in the coming days. I have so much to show him, so many atrocities to play out before his eyes."

Beta grinned as he stared into the eyes and said, "Zeck, I want you to know you brought this on yourself. I told you I would not be indebted, not to Daemons or to mortals. I owed your tribe for their aid and I repaid that debt, but I also owe you for your insults. Oh yes, I heard every word you said, every slur and jibe you and your little friends whispered behind my back. I even heard you talking about leaving me to die… did you think I would let that pass without redress? Yet you can't pretend I didn't warn you. I said your soul was a candle in the dark and that would attract attention. I even offered to teach you how to defend yourself, but you turned me down. You could have become mighty in my service, but this is the consequence of your own choices, doomed to become a host to a Greater Daemon."

Zeck's soul fought to scream and shout, he wanted to punch Beta and rail against him, he wanted to sink to his knees and weep for Lynia's death. Yet he was powerless to act, his body now obeyed a will other than his own. He was a prisoner within his own flesh, enslaved to the whim of a Daemon and condemned to watch unspeakable horrors being inflicted upon the galaxy. Harbinger was free and the worlds of men would rue the day when a Daemon was loosed upon the stars.

As Zeck's feet turned under him and carried him away his mind drowned under the suffocating weight of a million feathers and deep within his soul sharp beaks began to gnaw upon his sanity. Zeck was trapped forever in his own head and in the grim darkness of the galaxy, nobody could hear his screams.

_The Adventure continues when Chaplain Wrethan returns in Redemptio Opus_


	27. Chapter 27

_Presenting a teaser for an upcoming story, Diem Infamia _

**Somewhere, Somewhen **

The skies of Sicarus burned eternally and rained blood, turbulent swells of black and red warring for dominance from horizon to horizon. Among those impossible heavens Neverborn flew freely, shimmering forms woven of the dreams of rich men struggling against creatures composed from the hunger of famine or the tears shed over stillborn babies. Under that sky a million unholy fanes lurked, each one a basilica of torment and sorrow, the product of endless sacrifices made to the Ruinous Powers.

Billions of slave-helots toiled to construct new temples, even as the oldest crumbled to dust. Overseeing them were the towering forms of Transhumans in gore red plate. Once humanity's champions and greatest heroes, now they were Traitors and Heretics, the lost and the Damned. They had seen the truth of the universe, secret Gods that the False Emperor had sought to keep from them. The wondrous nightmares and glorious horrors of Chaos had been revealed unto them and they embraced it heart and soul. Sicarus dwelt within the Eye of Terror, that impossible fusion of realspace and the Warp but never had it been so glorified. The galaxy was split in twain and Chaos was in the ascendant, now the home of the Word Bearers Legion sang with the final triumph of the Dark Pantheon. Bells rang constantly, a cacophony that made ears bleed and shattered the sanity of those few mortals who still clung to such laughable notions. Everywhere fresh sacrifices were offered up to glorify Chaos Undivided, each soul serving to fuel the galactic calamity that swept the stagnant Imperium of Terra.

On one cathedral spire a Thunderhawk gunship settled down, its red hull shimmering as black lightning flashed across the sky. It sat alone on a landing pad, high above the surface of Sicarus as its assault ramp lowered. Then came a lone warrior, clad in crimson power armour with silver highlights and multitudes of short spikes. Across the plates of his armour were the litanies of Lost Colchis and his face was pale, with sharpened teeth and a long topknot arising from his scalp. One hand rested on the butt of a bolt pistol but the other swelled into long talons, with black claws that constantly dripped fresh blood. He was Kasarox the Unhallowed, Coryphaus of the Crooked Path Warband, outcasts of the Word Bearer Traitor Legion. Kasarox paused to take in the vista spread out before him and he exhaled in awe, "Sicarus, I never thought I would see it with my own eyes."

Behind him there were sets of heavy treads, as a pair of warriors disembarked. The first had twisted plates armour, rent by protruding bones and long talons. His face was marred by hooked points on his chin and a snide leer that seemed to be permanently fixed. He was Raruma the Mocker, a Possessed Marine and the closest one Kasarox could call to a friend. Raruma sniffed as he looked down at the world spread out before him and muttered, "It isn't that impressive."

Across from him a deeper voice growled, "This is Holy Sicarus, show some respect." That was Burronox the Anointed. He wore the heaviest of all armour, Terminator plate, festooned with icons of the Dark Gods and bearing large tusks that extended out from his helm. Burronox was a fierce and belligerent warrior, one who believed hard in the powers of Chaos and he found snide mockery to be offensive.

Kasarox looked down, seeing balconies and archways running between the soaring spires. Devotees lined every inch of it, whipping themselves and tearing their flesh in displays of devotion. Eight-spoked prayer wheels hung over the edges of the balconies, onto which were bound mortals covered in runes of Chaos. Neverborn flitted around these, drawn by the runes, while the mortals pleaded to have their bodies become hosts to the divine horrors. Everywhere people were committing deeds pleasing unto the Pantheon. Knives flashed as blood was spilt for Khorne, while orgies raged to seek the favour of Slaanesh. Men held open wounds aloft, seeping gangrenous pus that pleased Nurgle, while sacrificial priests were themselves stabbed in the back by their acolytes as an act of worship to Tzeentch.

Kasarox drank it all in and declared, "It is so much more than I ever dreamed. This should have been ours millennia ago."

"It would have been, were it not for Abulaz," Burronox growled, "The coward lurks in orbit and sends us into the lion's den."

Kasarox shared his ire, their leader and Dark Apostle Abulaz was an exile from the Legion. He had fled his due punishment for failure at the dawn of the Imperium and led the Crooked Path ever since. Kasarox had been inducted centuries later, taught to revere the Dark Apostle above all else. It had taken him lifetimes to rise high enough to see Abulaz for what he was, a smug fool who did not deserve his position. The Crooked Path all knew it, Abulaz was grossly incompetent as a martial strategist and war-leader, he needed to be removed. Unfortunately Abulaz was learned in the ways of the Pantheon and cunning to boot, nobody knew what defences he had in place against treachery.

Raruma sniffed as he said, "We came a long way to be here and I still don't understand why. What's the point, why don't you just take Abulaz's head and be done with it?"

Burronox muttered, "I can't believe I agree with him, but why is Abulaz still breathing?"

Kasarox turned to face him and said, "For all his military ineptitude Abulaz still commands powerful sorcery. None of us understands his capabilities, if we move openly there's no telling what he will unleash."

Raruma muttered, "You didn't seem so timid when we slaughtered the Salamanders at Morghan's Point. You waded into their ranks without qualm, saving fifty of our Brothers I might add."

Kasarox retorted, "It might have looked reckless, but that was the result of meticulous planning and intelligence gathering. While you lot were revelling in the slaughters I was observing our foe and studying their weaknesses. Abulaz is dangerous and I do not intend to underestimate him. How many of the Crooked Path support us: half? That is no good, I say we need more support and I will get it."

"Pah," Burronox spat, "You are overthinking this Unhallowed."

"Unhallowed," Raruma snorted in amusement and said, "Why do you still wear that demeaning name?"

Kasarox flexed his wicked talons and watched the blood dripping off them and admitted, "I have grown used to it, it keeps me focused and fires my ambitions."

"I thought that's what I did," Raruma pouted.

Kasarox retorted, "No, I keep you around as my bullet shield. Nobody can shoot me while your big head is in the way."

"Kill me now," Burronox muttered, "Death is preferable to listening to you two."

Raruma suddenly looked up and said, "I hate to interrupt, but here he comes."

Kasarox looked up and saw a wide platform floating through the air on a cushion of Warp magic. It was some twelve feet in diameter and had a high guard rail, but that was nothing compared to the fact that it was also a man. A human body had been stretched and moulded by the fell powers of the Pantheon until it was wafer thin and circular. Pulsing organs could be seen through the taut flesh and his face was the size of a dinner plate and still moaning in agony.

Kasarox watched in awe at the power on display as it settled down upon their landing platform and then he bowed low as the occupants disembarked. First off was a pair of Terminator guards, whose combi-bolters were unwavering in their aim. Yet between them was a man in more ancient armour. He was weathered and pitied by age, his bald head scarred by the ravages of time, yet his eyes were filled with the power of the Gods. He was mighty and powerful yet he was no Astartes, he was something else, something inferior yet majestic at the same time.

Kasarox kept his head low and proclaimed, "Greetings, mighty Kor Phaeron, Black Cardinal and Master of the Faith."

The ancient lord of the Word Bearers sneered down at them and hissed, "I see three worms of the Crooked Path before me, exiles, deserters and faithless cowards. Your presence on blessed Sicarus is an insult to the Pantheon."

Kasarox swallowed at the brusque greeting and hurriedly said, "By the codas of blessed Colchis we seek parley and surety of passage."

Kor Phaeron snorted, "Those decrepit old protocols are the only reason I allowed your ship to approach. If you had any lick of sense you would have stayed away, Dark Apostle Abulaz is not welcome here."

Then Burronox growled, "We are here to barter and you offer us insults."

"Insults are the least thing I have for you," Kor Phaeron stated, "A word from me and my fleets will obliterate your little cruiser from the stars."

Kasarox stated, "If you don't want to hear our offer then maybe Erebus will."

That brought a response, even in exile the rivalry between the pair of lords had reached their ears. Kor Phaeron's lip curled as he spat, "Out with it then."

Kasarox elaborated, "The galaxy is turned upside down, the Imperium falls to Chaos but the False Emperor fights the inevitable. He sends forth his son, the faithless Primarch of Ultramar, to lead a counter-Crusade. A feeble effort but his Indomitus Crusade is annoyingly resilient and such resistance offends the Pantheon. Abulaz yearns to address that insult; he seeks support to launch an assault to wipe it from the stars."

Kor Phaeron snorted, "Abulaz was wise to send emissaries to speak for him, I would kill him myself for such temerity. He always was a toadying little wretch, not fit to lick my boots. I already know all about Guilliman's return, he is no threat to the Gods. I have faced him myself and found his mettle wanting."

"Really?" Raruma interrupted, "I heard he ripped out one of your hearts."

Kasarox swallowed as he saw Kor Phaeron's face fill with anger and he cursed the Mocker. Chaos tended to extremes, Raruma literally couldn't be anything except derisive, but today that could get them all killed. Hastily Kasarox blurted, "Raruma, one more word from you and I will have Burronox rip out your tongue."

Kor Phaeron looked down at them and growled, "Give me one reason to let you live."

Kasarox decided to be bold and declared, "That was Abulaz's missive but not mine. I have a message of my own, Abulaz may lead the attack but he will not live to see it completed."

"What's this?" Kor Phaeron started, "A Coryphaus plots against his Dark Apostle? You seek to supplant him, where is your loyalty? Have you lost faith in the destiny laid out for you by the Dark Gods?"

Kasarox grinned as he said, "Talk of destiny is for grovelers, the mighty understand that Chaos elevates those who help themselves."

"Ha," Kor Phaeron snorted, "I see why you came to me and not Erebus. Tell me what makes you think you can defeat Guilliman."

Kasarox clapped his hands and from the Thunderhawk came a pair of helots, wrapped in black iron chains and carrying a rune-chest between them. They approached the Word Bearers, backs bent under the weight of it, then set it down and opened the lid. Within was a glowing red jewel, sharp-edged and flickering with an inner fire.

Kor Phaeron eyes glinted with avarice and he whispered, "A Fulgur Vitrum, where did you get it?"

Kasarox answered, "It was a gift from a potentate of the Sixth Host of Khorne."

"Oh, it is so much more than that," Kor Phaeron uttered, "It is a font of raw power, a conduit for the elemental might of the Empyrean. The things you could do with this…"

"We shall pledge it to your service," Kasarox declared, "If you will aid us."

Kor Phaeron's eyes narrowed and he hissed, "What do you want?"

"Ships," Kasarox replied, "Abulaz plans to break Guilliman in the deeps of space, but it will be his final act."

Kor Phaeron was silent for a long moment and Kasarox felt a trickle of cold dread from slipping down his spine. Then at last the Black Cardinal declared, "You shall have a fleet to command, vessels enough to lay waste to the Indomitus Crusade. Destroy, cripple or delay Guilliman, I care not, but make sure Abulaz dies. And above all else I want the Crooked Path to fight under my banner in the future, not Erebus'."

Kasarox bowed low and said, "As you command my lord. For your glory and the Dark Gods, the Word Bearers shall remind the scum of Ultramar what fear is."


End file.
